


Your Kind of Lover

by Supersonicat



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Gay Male Character, Husbands, Jealousy, Love, Love Triangles, M/M, True Love, accidentally in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2019-11-17 13:57:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 69,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18099866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersonicat/pseuds/Supersonicat
Summary: This was the plan. Freddie would make Winnie jealous, scrubbing a sexy and hot Irishman into his boyfriend's face.It was just a game. A game that Freddie just loved to play.What Freddie was not expecting, it was that he'd fall in love, head over heels, for those soft Irish brown eyes, deep conversations, and gentle embraces..Based on their real life, with a hint of excitement about Freddie’s relationship transition from Winnie to his last partner, Jim.





	1. Romantic Movies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my dears, I'm starting another work besides the "How can I go on" serie. 
> 
> This fic is based on Freddie's real life, at least on information I read in "Mercury and Me" and other books. I'm not here to write bad things about Winnie or anyone else, I'd never do that. I'm just going to make a version about how Freddie fell in love with Jim. We know that the beginning of their relationship was nothing serious and that Freddie was possibly still with Winnie when he started hanging out with Jim. And yet, as Jim himself reported, he seemed to want to make the German jealous with the Irishman. So what I want is writing how this transition was in Freddie's life. 
> 
> I believe that, like most people, Freddie gave everything to his relationships. I do think that Freddie really liked Winnie as well, but he fell in love with Jim little by little. So this fic is focused on Freddie and Jim's beginning. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it! :D

Freddie opened his eyes slowly, his head was aching a little by a slight hangover. He could feel the weight of a strong arm on his abdomen, and a rhythmic breathing near his face. Memories of the night before began to sprout in his mind, and he smiled, even before he turned to the man beside him. What he found, when he did it so, made his smile growing bigger on his sleepy face.

 _Jim_. He finally had his night with Jim.

Freddie watched the other man for a while, trying not to make any rough move that would wake the Irishman up. Jim was sleeping peacefully, his head was turned to Freddie's direction and his mouth a bit open under his moustache. His long eyelashes were touching the skin above his eyes. Freddie traced, with his eyes, all his hairy chest, following the arm that was touching him, appreciating the contrast of Jim’s north European light skin with his own Parsis’ tanned color.

Oh, that was good. That night was really, really great. It took time to happen, but it sure had been worth waiting for, Freddie thought. Of course he would keep an eye in someone like Jim, even after a first rejection. In fact, Freddie loved something he could not get. Something that was not supposed to be his. Since that night that he was rejected by the hairdresser, and as he watched Jim in the arms of another man, Freddie instinctively wanted him for himself. No matter how long it took, he could wait.

That was why whenever he was in London, he asked Joe to check on the stranger of the Copacabana bar - who, by the way, did not seem to mind that he was fancied by anyone but Freddie _Fucking_ Mercury – to see if he was finally available for a second try. And Joe, efficient as he was, with his all-seeing eyes, found out where that man used to drink and on what days. After a while, Jim began to frequent the bars without any company, something that made Freddie really pleased.

And meeting him at _Heaven_ , in an ordinary night some months ago, was something that surprised him. He never saw Jim at _Heaven_ , Freddie didn’t even expect to see him that night. So he approached him again, and this time, Jim’s barriers were totally down. They talked, they danced, they went to Freddie's apartment with friends, they even slept in the same bed, however they were both too drunk to do anything else. They exchanged phone numbers.

And after three long months, he called Jim, inviting him for a dinner at his apartment. Freddie’s been busy, working hard that year, but he could not lie that he'd been a little disappointed that Jim had not tried to get in touch with him in that period. However, it only made him want to see the Irish again, be with him again. He thought the other night, even though nothing explicit had happened, had been very good. Jim seemed to be a pretty cool guy. Of course, he had that wonderful appearance that Freddie loved, and something about Jim made Freddie remember of Burt Reynolds; Freddie could not explain what. But beyond that, the conversations they had, the ease they were able to communicate, surprised Freddie. It was very easy to talk to Jim. Freddie did not need to think too much about topics or what was to follow. One subject was linked in the other and then in the other.

Of course, now there was sex. And it was so unbelievable good. It was raunchy and hungry. And, at the same time, gentle and tender. From what little he already knew about Jim, he realized the Irishman was a reserved, timid person. But there, in the bedroom, that seemed to have been forgotten. Jim was an exceptional lover. Caring and intense. It would make Freddie think about that night for a long time.

Freddie heard a quite hum and watched as Jim slightly waked up. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times and as soon as he recognized Freddie in front of him, he smiled lightly. Freddie was sure something warmed inside his own chest.

 _“Good morning”_ – Jim said, his thick accent sounded like music to the singer's ears.

 _“Good morning”_ – Freddie replied, bringing his body closer to the other's warmth. Jim took the hand that was still at Freddie’s waist, up to his shoulder, his fingers trailing through his morning sensitive skin, causing delightful shivers in the musician. They stayed in silence for a while, looking at each other _\- “Last night…”_ – Freddie started again, his own hand tracing Jim’s torso – _“…was really great, dear”_

 _“Yes, it was”_ – Jim agreed, enjoying the thin fingers that were strolling him. They just laid there for a few minutes, cuddling, and taking that feeling of a morning after a good night of party and shag.

 _“What are you up to today, darling?_ ” – Freddie asked after a while. Jim seemed to think for a bit.

_“Nothing really, I guess”_

_“You could spend the day here with me, if you want to, of course”_ – he brought his hand up to Jim's face, caressing the soft skin and the dimple that formed as soon as the Irishman smiled – _“I’m flying back to Munich this evening and I could deal with some company until then”_

 _“I can stay_ ” – Jim replied – _“If you want me to…”_

 _“I do”_ – Freddie smiled, leading forward to press a small kiss on Jim’s lips.

 _“You taste like wine”_ – Jim confessed as Freddie went back to his position. In fact, Freddie'd had some glasses of wine during dinner.

 _“Aren’t you kind?_ ” – Freddie laughed – _“I must taste like bad breath with smoke”_ \- Jim followed the other man's laughter – _“I am sorry about that, by the way”_

_“You don’t have to apologize. I should not be much better”_

_“You know what I think is so amusing…?_ ” – Freddie started, when something just lit up on his mind. That was what he meant, and it was why he actually appreciated Jim so much until now. Freddie could just spilt what he had in his head and he was rather sure that Jim would not mind -   _“Those bloody romantic movies of nowadays, when the couples wake up in the morning and kiss each other madly. Are their life so fucking perfect that they have no bad breath at all?”_

They guffawed madly. Their husky laughters echoed in the bedroom.

 _“What about their hair?”_ – Jim asked – _“It seems to me that they have just left a beauty saloon. I’d like to get their formula that leaves the curls impeccable until the next day. I’d sell to all my customers”_   - Freddie's stomach started to ache from so much that he was laughing.

_“How does my hair look like?”_

_“Right now?_ ” – Jim took his hand to Freddie's black strands – _“A bit… abstract”_

 _“You bastard, you’re supposed to be nice to me”_ – He joked, giving a light slap on the hairdresser's shoulder.

 _“All right, then”_ \- Jim said, wrapping Freddie's slender body in both of his arms, and pulling him closer, the hair on their chests, entwining deliciously – _“Let’s pretend we’re in a romantic movie”_

Freddie threw his wrists around Jim's neck, smiling with satisfaction.

_“Oh, I’d love that, darling”_

 

.

 

Joe rolled his eyes, switching the phone from an ear to the other ear, counting to ten to keep calm. He liked his work. He really did. He loved Freddie from the bottom of his heart and being his _right arm_ was an honor to him. He did not mind having to be available for almost 24 hours for anything the _rock star_ would want. He even liked it. It was like an adventure all the time. The unexpected always awaited him.

But if there was one thing he did not like, it was _that_. Oh, how he hated it. Of course he would not say that to Freddie. After all, Freddie assumed it would also be Joe's job. But the truth was he did not feel comfortable with it. Especially because Joe himself was once Freddie's lover. Not that it did any difference for Joe. That was past, and they were great friends now. But he hated being involved in the games and madness of Freddie and his lovers. Oh, how he hated it!

 _“Don’t worry”_ – he said on a sigh – _“I’ll tell him as soon as he is out of his bath”_ \- The other person on the other side of the line spoke some more things, which made him massage his own temple – _“I'm telling you, as soon as he leaves the bathroom, I'll let him know, I promise, okay?” -_ And he hung up the phone, letting out a sigh of relief.

 _“Who was that?”_ \- the voice came from the hallway and Joe turned to that direction to find Freddie in his colorful robe and wet hair.

 _“Winnie”_ – Joe replied, watching Freddie’s expression going blank – _“Actually it was Barbara, you know”_ – he continued, raising his eyebrows behind his glasses. Of course it was Barbara, Freddie thought. Winnie could not get on the phone with Joe. Winnie was not able to even speak on the phone with Freddie, how would he understand Joe's american accent?

 _“What did he want?”_ – Freddie asked, walking towards the sofa and letting his body fall on it.

_“To know if you're at home. He's been looking for you all weekend, so Barbara said”_

Freddie stared at his nails, looking disinterested.

_“Oh, has he?”_

_“You didn’t tell him you’re going to London, so…”_

_“And should I tell him everything?”_ \- Freddie snarled, getting a remote control from the coffee table and turning on the television in front of him.

 _“I don’t know, Melina”_ – Joe said wearily, taking his glasses off his face and rubbing his eyes. He was tired, last night they partied and drank too much in London. Joe could not sleep much, because that morning he had to pack up Freddie's things so they could go back to Germany. They had only recently arrived at Freddie's apartment in the Bavarian capital. Joe just wanted to get some rest – _“He is your boyfriend, after all”_

“ _Humpf! Boyfriend…”_ \- Freddie grunted like a spoiled brat – _“I do not need to remember you what he did last week, do I?”_

The American placed his glasses back, wishing internally that Freddie did not start complaining again about Winnie's behavior. They were at _Frisco,_ a gay club in the center of Munich, when the German appeared, coiled to a big blond man. He and Freddie had had a big row before that. And apparently the solution that the Germanic found was to infuriate the singer even more.

Joe did not answer Freddie's question, just moved to one of the armchairs in the living room and sat down, his body sinking comfortably into the upholstery as Freddie flipped the channels for something that would interest him.

They remained silent for a moment. The weariness was overcoming Joe little by little. All he wanted was to take a good shower and clutch in his blanket.

 _“What are you going to do?” –_ Joe asked, as Freddie stopped changing the channels, fixing his gaze on a movie that was on the screen. It was from Hollywood, so Joe deduced. A young couple was walking along some street, hands indwelled, stealing kisses from each other, as they talked and laughed as teenagers about anything the other spoke. A romantic movie.

Freddie sighed. The feeling of strong arms, wet kisses, and Irish accent returned with all the force to his body and mind. He smiled cheekily. He had a great idea.

_“Oh, Liza, my darling. I know exactly what I'm going to do”_


	2. Lasagna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! One more chapter, and it came out faster than I expected. The comments and kudos encouraged me a lot and I was very eager to write more! Thank you! I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter!

Freddie was anxious. He could not quite explain why. He was checking his wrist watch minute by minute, and also, the big airport screen that flashed _"landed"_ to a flight that came from London. He just hated waiting. He looked from Joe to Barbara - they were standing by both his sides - trying to find some support that could just calm him down. That did not help. Joe only held a blank expression, looking straight ahead, squirming his head higher and trying to see beyond the ordinary people that were passing by the huge _international_ gate. Barbara, on the other hand, seemed as anxious as himself, holding a blond lock of her own hair, as she looked from Joe to Freddie and to the gate, waiting for something to happen.

The frontman felt his chest warming, as soon he saw a familiar figure, finally walking through the big mechanic doors. Jim seemed lost, his face holding an uncertain expression. He dressed only light jeans and a white shirt; a perfect combination for a hot summer, in both England or Germany. He was holding only a bag on his right shoulder and his left hand was in his pants pocket.

As soon as their eyes met, Freddie saw Jim letting out a sigh of relief, and immediately walking towards him. Every step he took to his direction, Freddie felt like his stomach was up to do some acrobatics inside him. Those brown eyes; those muscular arms. They all brought Freddie back to a night that happened the week before, and which the singer could not get it out of his head. Exchanged breaths by noses that were so close. Muffled moans by the other’s mustachioed mouth. The synchronized friction of their naked bodies. Everything else seemed to darken to Freddie at that moment, taking all completely out of his field of vision.

All he could see was Jim walking toward him.

And once the Irishman got close enough, he did the only thing he could do, towards all those feelings that consumed him.

He threw his arms around Jim's neck. And hugged him tight.

Jim did not correspond it, at first. He looked at Joe and Barbara - who he had not known yet, and everywhere in the landing hall of the airport, without knowing for sure what to do.

No one around them seemed to bother for such show of affection.

 _“Don’t worry”_ – he heard Freddie saying to his ear – _“They don’t care that much in here”_

Jim hugged Freddie back a little timidly, feeling himself blush slightly and avoiding the gaze of the other two that were accompanying Freddie. He was embarrassed.

When the musician finally released him, he was able to greet Joe - who gave him a friendly handshake and a smile - and then he was introduced to Barbara. She was a pretty blond woman with a rather Germanic appearance. She was dressed in a slightly extravagant manner, for anyone that was just heading to the airport; her clothes were colorful and her clean curls were down on her shoulders.

 _“How was your flight?”_ – Barbara asked, as they started to walk out of the airport.

 _“Oh, it was pretty good”_ – Jim replied, noticing that some people around them stopped to watch the quartet. They smiled and pointed to both Barbara and Freddie – “ _I've never traveled first class before_ ”

“ _I hope they've treated you well_ ” – Freddie said, with a grin on his face, waving for two women. They had just shaken their hands on the air frantically at him.

“ _Probably better then I deserve_ ” - Jim confessed, smiling sheepishly. He was extremely uncomfortable. He still was not well believing what was happening. What the _hell_ was he doing there? He just woke up that morning in his modest quiet routine: He prepared an omelet and a strong black coffee for his breakfast and went to work as usually, just hoping to get home and have some beer while cooking his own dinner…

And now, out of the blue, he was in a foreign land, in the company of celebrities, going somewhere he had no idea what it would be. How did that just happen?

 _“Do not be modest, my dear” -_ the singer replied, winking at the hairdresser. They got to the parking lot, a taxi was already waiting for them. Freddie looked at Jim with a smile, and before they got into the car, he confessed _– “I’m really glad you’re here”_

 

.

 

Freddie pulled Jim, rather aggressively, by the collar of his shirt, sticking their lips together, even before the Irishman could have the chance to put his bag down. He kissed Jim intensely, taking a deep breath to smell the other man’s scent.

Jim had no reaction for a moment, his head still confused with all that was happening – the unexpected call from Queen’s office at his work; the tickets booked for that very night to Germany; first class; Freddie's warm reception. Jim's mind was in chaos. And he did not like it at all.

Jim was the kind of person who liked to have control over himself, his actions, his life ... he was very zealous of his independence. He could not deny that he had been annoyed with what Freddie did. Paying an expensive ticket for him to go to Munich without even letting him know; making him completely speechless on the phone line with the Queen's employee; and leaving him without any alternative, unless, to accept and travel to meet the frontman. 

But there, like that, with Freddie's warm body pressed close to his, his fleshy lips kissing him with desire, his scent mingled with an expensive perfume that Jim would not know the name… it made him forget all those things. He gave in, throwing his bag on the floor, and quickly bringing his hands around the singer's neck, trailing his fingers into Freddie’s dark hair, and pulling him even closer to himself.

Freddie smiled with satisfaction without breaking the hot kiss, his hands went slowly down to Jim’s sides, caressing him over his clothes, and then meeting his hips and squeezing them lightly. Jim bit Freddie's lip slightly in response, to which Freddie moaned, guiding him blindly to the bed by the waist, making a great effort so that their mouths would not separate, not even for a second.

Freddie threw Jim on the mattress, falling with him, making a noise in the bed’s wood.

Their hands began to wander each other’s body.

Their clothes were pulled away with desperation.

 

.

 

 _“So…”_ – Barbara started, as soon as Freddie and Jim just did not appear from Freddie’s bedroom after a while – _“Who is he?”_

 _“Jim? A friend…”_ – Joe said. They were at the kitchen; Joe was just starting to get everything to prepare the dinner table for supper – _“Didn’t Freddie say it?”_

 _“A friend…”_ – the blonde narrowed her eyes to the American man– _“All right”_ \- she said in disbelief – _“Is there something I should know?”_

 _“If there is something and if you find out, please, let me know too, sweetheart”_ – Joe spoke nonchalantly, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, picking up the silver cutlery from a drawer.

 _“Oh, for heaven's sake, bitte, Joe”_ \- Barbara threw her hands up impatiently, dramatically as if she was acting in a movie – _“You know everything. Everything! Just tell me what he is up to!”_

 _“Sorry, dear. But this time I don’t have a clue”_ – Joe said, now getting the crystal cups from a cupboard.

_“Oh, how sneaky you are!”_

Joe gave her a little mocking smile. Barbara looked toward the long corridor. There was still no sign of the other two men.

 _“This smells…” –_ so she said.

_“It’s my Lasagna. It's in the oven. It’ll be ready soon, honey”_

Barbara rolled her eyes, turning toward Joe again and casting a mortifier glance in his direction. Joe just laughed, heading to the living room to set the table.

 

.

 

They collapsed on the bed, side by side, looking to the ceiling with giddy eyes, breathing loudly by their mouths, trying to catch their breath again and to make their hearts going back to a normal beat frequency.

 _“You couldn’t wait, could you?”_ – Jim said grinning, his bared chest going up and down while he searched for more air – _“I could, at least, have unpacked” –_ he continued. Freddie laughed at that, his situation was not different from Jim’s.  Drops of sweat fell from his forehead – _“Or you could have shown me the apartment, offered me some tea” -_ Jim continued.

They both laughed.

 _“You were not complaining seconds ago, my darling”_ – Freddie replied – _“In fact, you seemed very happy that I showed you my beautiful bedroom, at first”_

 _“Your bedroom is lovely” –_ Jim joked – “ _Very, very charming_ ”

“ _I’m glad you like it_ ” – Freddie gathered his energies to turn to the hairdresser, leaning his head on one hand and his elbow on the mattress – “ _Because we'll spend a pretty long time here_ ”

Jim turned his face to Freddie, finding his brown eyes staring at him intently. He had even forgotten why he was upset with the musician before. Freddie leaned forward, sealing their lips together once more, this time calmer. They pulled back, their eyes on each other’s face.

 _“Why did you bring me here?”_ – Jim asked, his gaze fixed on the other's.

 _“To be with me, of course”_ – Freddie said, taking his hand to Jim's face and stroking it lightly – _“Should I not have done it?”_

_“You could have asked me”_

_“If I did that, you wouldn’t come” –_ Freddie replied, running his fingers through Jim's swollen lips.

 _“How would you know?” -_ Jim frowned.

 _“Oh darling, I kind of know you already” –_ Freddie smirked – “ _Well, a little, at least”_

 _“Oh, do you?”_ \- the hairdresser raised an eyebrow, playfully.

“ _Yes_ ” - Freddie's hand left his face, starting to crawl down the Irish neck – “ _You’re a quiet person, minding your own business” –_ his fingers started to trace down to Jim’s shoulders, finding some freckles and playing with them there – “ _You do not make a fuss about anything… or anyone” –_ Freddie added, casting an ironic glance at him as his hand went lower to Jim’s biceps – “ _But you are kind and trustworthy, as perks do not seem to impress you much” –_ Freddie touched the full length of Jim’s arm with his thin fingers, finally reaching his hand – _“You are different from most people I know” -_ Freddie then entwined their hands, both still sweaty by the actions of minutes ago.

Jim smiled faintly, not quite sure what to answer about that. Everything seemed so unreal to him - to be in Germany in Freddie's bed, when that very early morning he was cutting the hair of a rather grumpy old man. Was he dreaming?

 _“I must be very easy to read”_ – he speculated, a blush coming to his cheeks. Jim tried to hide it, turning his face a bit away from Freddie, but it did not go unnoticed by the musician. Freddie thought that was adorable. Jim was really adorable.  He tugged at the Irishman's jawbone, making Jim face him again and kissed his mouth one more time, running his tongue over the other man's lips to get more of his taste. Adorable.

 _“You are not”_ – Freddie replied, when he moved back, releasing a small laugh– _“I’m just a good reader” -_ then he stretched, sighing, and raised from the bed, sitting down, his back against the headboard – “ _Artists are sensitive, I suppose_ ”

“ _And persuasive, so I see_ ” – Jim spoke to himself, not to Freddie, this time; also sitting on the bed just like the other one.

 _“Sorry?”_ – Freddie had not listened it.

 _“Never mind”_ – he said with a small smile. It was Jim's turn to take his own hand to Freddie's face, caressing his rosy cheek with his fingertips - _"Well, now that I'm here, what do you want to do, Fred?"_

Freddie leaned instinctively toward the caresses he was receiving. A wry smile began to form in the corner of his mouth.

_“Now we’ll have some fun, my Jim”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bitte \- please in german.
> 
> Hope you guys like it! Leave me any comment, please! xoxox


	3. Gossip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! One more chapter! This one is a little longer than the others, as a way of thanking for the lovely comments and kudos! Thank you!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Leave me comment, please! xoxox

Winnie sliced a filet of pork harder than necessary, making a loud noise in the wooden plank. The other cooks in the in the big kitchen exchanged queer looks at the aggressiveness of their boss. Not that he was a very calm person. Everyone there knew that if there was one thing they did not wish, it was making the chef angry.

He had already yelled at the vegetable delivery man earlier, had already argued with one of the waiters for handing the wrong order to one of the restaurant tables, and had already made the new _saucier_ nearly cry for almost overcooking the fungi sauce.

Winnie was in a bad mood. In a very, very bad mood.

The kitchen door opened, and a blond woman came in, slipping through the room, her expensive and colorful purse swinging on her shoulder, greeting everyone with a resounding _Guten Tag._

 _“Hello, my dear”_ – Barbara said as she got close to the owner of the restaurant, her austrian accent ringing loudly to any german speaker, as they spoke in their mother language.

 _“Hello”_ – Winnie replied throwing the cut meat aggressively into a glass platter.

_“How have you been, sweetheart?”_

_“Good”_ \- he replied dryly, turning on the stove in a sharply movement.

 _“Hello! Good!”_ \- she imitated him, her theatrical skills were so perfect that she sounded just like the German man – _“_ _You could be a little gentler with your friend of so many years”_

Winnie _humpfed_. Finally turning to the woman, with a frowny face.

_“Are you alone?”_

Barbara sighed, aware of what Winnie was asking. Or rather, about whom.

 _“Yes, I am alone” -_ she answered, watching the man to turn his face away from hers, returning to the pots and food in front of him.

 _“So it's true what I’ve heard. He is acting like a fucking brat again” - _he grunted, letting out a growl. So that was it. Some friends had told him that they saw his supposed boyfriend clinging to the neck of another man over the weekend. And he was terribly upset about it.

 _“In my point of view, he's not the only one doing it” -_ the actress confessed, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms like a protective mother who reprimand her naughty son – _“You have not been behaving well.”_

Winnie snarled again, annoyed at the way that Barbara spoke to him.

 _“Have you met him?”_ – he asked as if he pretended to make little case, avoiding looking at the woman.

 _“Who?”_ – Barbara asked, and Winnie narrowed his black eyes at her – _“Oh, Jim!? Yes, I’ve met him”_

_“How is he like?”_

_“He seemed like a cool guy”_ – she replied thoughtful – _“He's Irish. He has dark hair and a mustache like you”_

 _“Does he?” -_ It was Winnie's turn to raise his dark eyebrows.

_“Yes, he is nice and very, very handsome. I even wished him to be straight”_

Winnie felt the anger growing inside him.

 _“Are you this guy’s friend now?”_ \- he asked visibly offended.

 _“Oh, please, stop it!”_ – Barbara raged – _“You were the one who asked me. I’m just telling you what I saw”_

Winnie turned his face away from Barbara one more time. He was really angry. He could not understand Freddie. Literally. They did not speak the same language; they could not have a conversation without Barbara's translation. But even so, he missed the singer's company. He could not accept that he could be somewhere in the arms of another guy.

Barbara seemed to notice the German's frustration. She gave him a small smile, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and began in a calm voice:

 _“Winnie, my dear, this guy… it's nothing serious. I'm telling you. Joe, that friend of Freddie's, did not want to tell me what this is all about, but I really think this Jim guy means nothing to him. He's just another one of Freddie’s tricks” -_ she smiled at her friend, trying to give him some comfort– _“You have not been good to him either lately, I honestly think this silly fight has to end soon”_

_“Humpf. As if he deserved it!”_

_“But he deserves it. And you better starting to see that. Before it's too late”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You should try to make up with him as soon as possible” -_ She took a deep breath. Even if she believed there was nothing serious between the Irishman and the rockstar, she could not deny that there was something there.

She saw how Freddie looked at _that_ man. And she saw also how _that_ man looked at Freddie. There was complicity. There was understanding. There was something there, between them, that she was sure she had never seen Freddie having with anyone. Maybe even they, Freddie and Jim, had not realized yet. But Barbara had the slight impression that it was something not very common to happen to anyone. It was something… different, something that she still couldn’t describe what it was; but it was right there, she could notice. It was there in the way they talked to each other, it was there in the way they danced all night at the Munich’s clubs... it was there in the way they stare at each other while drinking some tea… it was definitely something there; new and a little lacking in strength, but with a strong potential to grow.

_“I'm not going to run after him. I will not give him this satisfaction”_

Barbara rolled her eyes, realizing that if Winnie would remain that way, he would soon lose his place to the finish line.

 _“You just need an excuse to try to talk to him. I'll help with the dialogue, of course. You just need a pretext” -_ Winnie didn’t answer her. He continued to work in the kitchen, a sullen expression still on his face. Barbara sighed, shaking her head negatively– _“Just think about it, ok?”_ \- she just advised - _"And I'll have your delicious Eisbein _ \- then she left the kitchen to sit at one of the tables at the restaurant room.

 

.

 

Freddie grinned, staring at the paper in his hands. He felt a pleasant sensation filling his chest, tickling inside. He knew that feeling, it was similar to the one he felt before climbing onto a stage to perform, yet a little timid, calmer; something that did not cause him nervousness but rather joy.

He noted the small, round handwriting, written definitively by a simple yet direct person.

It was so different from his own writing. If there was one thing Freddie was not, that was simple and direct. Although he was a reserved person off the stage, he was still extravagant and too intense, accustomed to write melodies, metaphors... to play with words. If he were to write what was in his hands, it would probably be longer and with more vocabulary than that.

But that did not mean that the few words had upset him. No, far from that; quite the opposite. That made him very, very happy.

He read the note a couple of times, then analyzed a photo that was also on the envelope. There was a cat; ginger and big, on top of a slightly shabby sofa. A hand was resting on the cat’s head - it seemed to caress it - from someone sitting next to him. Oh, Freddie knew whose hand was. He knew very well by now.

Soft and strong; those hands knew very well _where_ to hold and with _what_ intensity. They were clever, and at the same time, gentle. Freddie was not that surprised that he was able to recognize it so quickly, and still in an old photo. In fact, after the last weekend, he was sure that he had nearly memorized every piece of those hands; the nails, the joints, the lines of the palm. Freddie has always been very attached to details, as the true _Virgo_ man he was. He would never fail to notice those hands. They held him tight before they went to sleep, they guided him on the dance floor in the clubs they visited, they caressed him when they were all afternoon on the sofa, talking and watching television.

 _Oh,_ the sofa. That was also such a good part of the weekend. Of course, they spent a lot of time at the bedroom – as Freddie had promised – which the singer enjoyed madly, but to be able to just be on the sofa all day long, cuddling and chatting about anything that came to mind, was something that really pleased him. He really did not expect that just this simple and ordinary action, of just spending time with someone, speaking, laughing at some comedy scene that appeared on TV or sharing little kisses, would captive him so much. That was really, really good.

Freddie's smile widened as he paced the room, reaching to a small cabinet against a wall near an armchair. He opened the second drawer, picking up a black leather notebook, and letting his body fall into the chair, letting out a sigh.

He passed the pages, finding after a few seconds a phone number that it was not so long ago that it was written there.

He picked up the phone from the wooden desk beside him and dialed the numbers quickly.

 

.

 

Jim heard knocks on the door, and soon Mrs. Taverner came into the room. He hated when she did it; she did not even wait for him to answer whether she could come in or not. But he usually relieved that way; she was an old lady and it was not like he did anything too inappropriate inside her house; well at least since _John_ and he split out.  

He was on the landing, cooking some meat and baked vegetables for himself. He just turned and gave her an odd smile, waiting for her to say what she wants.

 _“It’s for you” -_ and pointed out the room. He understood what it was. A phone call.

Jim turned off the fire, and cleaned his hands on a cloth while Mrs.Taverner marched downstairs; he followed her wondering who it would be. He had phoned his mother on the week before and had sent a card and a small birthday present - which cost him more than he anticipated - to his older sister. Maybe it was some friend inviting for a drink. Which he would totally refuse; he was out of money and had already promised himself that he would only go out on weekends and in cheaper places to save some cash.

 _“Hi, Jim”_ – the other person said from the other line, as soon as he said _Hello_.

He frowned. The other voice was muffled by a slight laugh and seemed a little distant.

 _“Who is that?”_ – he asked.

_“Can’t believe you spent the entire weekend in my bedsheets and do not recognize my voice”_

Jim smiled, a shiver ran through his body as he listened to the crawling voice. The man was not angry, Jim knew it. He was just teasing him.

 _“Freddie” -_ He said in a whisper, his chest warming up with the memories of all the things that happened in those same _bedsheets_ – “ _I'm sorry. I was just not expecting you to call”_

 _“Well, I just received a lovely card and a photo of a really beautiful kitten" –_ Freddie said rolling the letter on his hand, a smile playing on his lips as he spoke – _“Just wanted to say thank you”_

 _“No, thank you”_ – Jim replied – _“I had a lovely weekend. I really enjoyed it”_ – Mrs. Taverner turned her head toward him from where she was sitting – on the rocking chair in the living room - knitting. He looked away, embarrassed.

 _“No need to thank me. It was my pleasure”_ \- Freddie licked his own lip, passing the phone to the other ear. His voice sounded lower and hoarse - _“I was so far thinking about that little thing you can do with your hands.”_

 _“Fred!” -_ Jim reprimanded him. It was not that he didn’t like what he heard - oh, he loved it - but he could feel Mrs. Tavares's eyes on him. He was sure he was completely flushed.

That weekend was really kind of surreal to Jim. By now then he was probably known as the mysterious man in Freddie Mercury’s arms, so he heard. And Freddie seemed to love it. As they went out, Freddie was pleased to introduce Jim to everyone; he made a point of making Jim comfortable everywhere they went; and he didn’t leave his side for a moment. He seemed to want to be with Jim the whole time.

But what intrigued Jim the most, and what was making him wonder since he returned to London, was actually not about the great time they spent going out, in fact, what he enjoyed the most, was when they were together at Freddie’s home.

It was so good to spend time with Freddie. Even though they were not doing much. Jim liked to listen to him, to watch him moisten his lips as he thought of something, to watch him grinning shyly of some joke Jim had made. Freddie seemed relaxed, unconcerned., He just seemed light whenever his hands paced Jim's legs lazily as they watched TV or as he leaned his head against Jim’s shoulder with a sigh. Freddie was very affectionate; Jim already knew that by now. He liked to touch and to be touched, even without any sexual intention. And during sex, he liked it even more, Jim had already realized it as well. And so did Jim. And as perverted as those moments in the bedroom were, they were all also filled with clasped hands, gentle caresses on the face, tender kisses in the midst of lust.

It was those things that Jim could not get out of his head.

“ _So, how is your week going so far, darling?” -_ Freddie asked after a few more minutes of conversation.

 _“As usual, I suppose” – Jim replied – “No rockstar turned up and paid me a trip to somewhere. So I think it's a normal week” -_ Freddie laughed heartily and Jim followed him – _“What about you?”_

 _“Well, I’m quite busy trying to finish some details of a video clip that I’ll record soon” –_ Freddie commented, sitting more comfortably on the armchair – _“It's a song from my solo album”_

_“Yeah? And what would it be?”_

_“ I was born to love you”_

_“Hey, I know that one!” _– Jim said _._ The music started to play on his head. Yes, that was definitely Freddie's voice – _“I’ve heard on the radio”_

 _“Oh, do you know it?” –_ Freddie asked, laughing again – _“Really, dear, sometimes I do not know if I must feel rather offended or lucky for you not knowing who I am”_

 _“A bit cocky, aren’t you? –_ Jim said and flipping a look at the old lady, who seemed now entertained to knit, he continued in a slightly daring voice – _“Which one do you prefer, babe?”_

Freddie felt his heart racing. Even on the phone and miles away, he felt as if the Irishman had said it right on his ear. He was so distracted by that feeling that he did not notice Joe entering the room with some supermarket bags.

 _“Well, let’s say that I prefer to answer that personally” -_ he began, his index finger curling into the wire of the phone as he carried one foot up the armchair, folding his thin leg – _“I think I can show you better”_ – Joe stopped on the way to the kitchen, looking at Freddie with a raised eyebrow and a surprised face.

 _“Oh, I’d love that” –_ that was the reply and Freddie grinned as a thirteen years old teenager girl _._ Joe frowned, leaving the bags on one of the sofas and looked at the other man a bit confused.

“ _I’d love that too” -_ he was going to start talking more, his face already held a cheeky expression when his eyes met Joe's across the living room. Freddie felt himself blush, swallowing hard as he faced the American – _“Sorry, darling. But I need to hang up. We keep in touch, okay?”_ \- They said goodbye and Freddie put the phone on the hook. He turned to Joe again, who were still in the same position – _“What?!”_

 _“Who was that?” _– Joe asked and pointed to the phone.

 _“Jim”_ – he replied simply with a small shrug.

_“Did you call him?”_

_“Yes, I did. Why?”_ – he asked in a defense manner – _“He sent me a letter, I was just thanking him. Can I not make a call?”_

Joe raised his hands in defeat.

 _"You can phone anybody you’d like, Melina” -_ and with a mocking tone he continued _– “I just didn’t realize that international calls and shrill giggles were part of the plan”_

 _“Spare me from your poison today, Liza” -_ Freddie spoke a little angrily and walked toward him – _“Of course that's part of the plan and everything is going well, thank you very much!”_ \- Freddie folded his arms over his tank top and asked – _“So… what have you heard?”_

Joe left the debauchery air and smiled, getting ready to start gossiping.

“ _Everyone just talks about it” –_ he told – “ _Who's that hot Irishman who was with Freddie Mercury? Is he someone famous too? Is he his new boyfriend? Where did he come from?” -_ he began to imitate a false German accent _– “Some people even say that he is a distant relative of the royal family” -_ Freddie burst out laughing, throwing himself on the couch where the groceries were – _“Hey, watch out! It’s dinner!”_

 _“You’ve got to be kidding!”_ \- Freddie did not pay attention to the last thing Joe said. He had tears in his eyes and he started to run out of breath. He could not stop laughing.

 _“_ _I'm not joking” –_ Joe said, picking up the bags under the singer _\- “And guess what?” –_ Freddie turned to him still laughing slightly _– “A little bird told me that Winnie is mad as hell!”_

Freddie smirked sarcastically, handing the last shopping bag that lay beneath him to Joe.

 _“Perfect”_ \- he got up, running a hand through his black hair, tidying it up. He walked to the wooden desk where the phone, that he used before, was – _“I told you, Liza. Everything is going according to the plan"_ \- he took the brown envelope from there - _"Call me when dinner is ready, please"_ \- and he left to his bedroom.

Jim's letter in his hand.

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Saucier_ \- The one responsible for the sauces in a restaurant.
> 
>  _Guten Tag_ \- Good day in German.
> 
>  _Eisbein_ \- German culinary dish of pickled ham hock.
> 
>  _John_ \- Jim’s ex boyfriend.
> 
> PS: Barbara and Winnie are speaking in german, since he does not speak english. ;)


	4. Bubbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Hope you guys like it! I'll try to update at least once a week, I can not promise though, but I swear I'll try! Thank you so much for reading!

_"Are you guys sure you’re not coming with us?"_ \- Joe asked as soon he appeared in the living room, the clothes he wore all day long were exchanged for a tight jeans and red polo shirt to show off his well-worked gym body. Peter appeared right behind him, straightening up his short hair. He had also changed clothes, and was wearing a black pants and white blouse; it looked like he had just taken a shower.

 _“To Haven tonight?”_ \- Freddie asked from the sofa, his body sunk into the soft upholstery as he averted his gaze from the television to look at the other two men – _“Oh, no darling. I had a really stressful day” -_ he replied, rolling his brown eyes. In fact, he was exhausted. He had made countless recordings of his video clip, and on top of that, he had just returned from the hospital. One of the dancers had had been injured and beaten her head. He had been in the hospital hall, waiting for the doctors' assessment. Thanks god, she had not suffered anything serious, just a few scratches. He did not expect that to happen. And considerate, as he was, he could not fail to accompany the girl for examination. He was in London recording the video for "I was born to love you". By the end of that evening, one of the performer girls had accidentally been thrown to the ground. He was not in the mood to club. He just wanted to rest a little after that exhausting day.

Joe glanced at Jim, as if asking the same question. He was sitting next to Freddie on the sofa. The singer also looked at him, waiting for an answer.

 _“No, I'm not going either” –_ he replied, which made Freddie smile slightly.

Peter and Joe exchanged glances, a malicious smile playing on their lips. Neither Jim nor Freddie noticed it.

 _“Well, have fun here then”_ – Peter murmured with a giggle, his big cheeks, tightening under his light eyes. And they went out through the doorway of the singer's apartment, leaving Freddie and Jim alone. The frontman let out a sigh as the other two men left, leaning his head on the hairdresser’s shoulder.

Jim placed a hand on Freddie's leg.

 _“You look tired”_ – Jim said, caressing the other man's knee.

 _“I am”_ – he answered – _“Me? refusing a party, my dear? I can only be exhausted!”_ \- He laughed.

_“But you had a busy day. You did not stand still for a second”_

_“I just wanted everything to be wonderful. I'm a little perfectionist, you see_ ” - Jim smiled. Yes, he had already realized that Freddie was very picky when it came to his work. The singer had called him two days ago, notifying that he would be in London for the weekend, and inviting him to watch the recording of the very videoclip he had mentioned a few days before on the phone.

Jim agreed to watch him that day. He spent that whole Saturday behind the scenes of the recording scenario in the company of Joe and Peter. It was, during that day, that he finally realized, a little at least, about whom he was going out with. Freddie was an influential musician. Everyone respected him, worship him, and looked at him with all admiration. The director of the clip agreed with everything that the singer proposed, without thinking twice; which, by the way, were always extraordinary ideas. The clip had been, so far, very, very good! And Jim could not deny that he liked to see Freddie perform in all those costumes he wore. Unfortunately, Jim did not have, on that Saturday, the opportunity to hear Freddie singing live. But he could notice, from the recorded music that was playing all day long, that the man had an extraordinary voice. Even he, Jim, a simple hairdresser, who understood absolutely nothing about music, could be totally sure, that Freddie Mercury was an outstanding singer. And not only that, he was an unbelievable performer. It charmed Jim in a way he could not decipher.

 _“I saw it and I liked it a lot” -_ Jim said, and Freddie looked into his eyes with a small smile curling his red lips.

 _“Do you know what I want right now?” –_ Freddie asked.

_“What?”_

_“A bath” -_ and he stood up, turning off the television by the remote control – _“Let’s go”_

They went upstairs to the bathroom. It was a large room, with a huge white porcelain bathtub in one of the corners. Freddie quickly turned on the tap, allowing water to slip and begin to fill the tub. He spent some time analyzing the many foam bottles and bath oils that were there, while Jim simply stood by the door, leaning against it, watching the other man. After a while, the singer chose a yellow flask, pouring it into the running water, along with a few drops of another smaller flask. Soon the bathroom was flooded with a pleasant scent and bubbles were formed on the water, which made Jim take a deep breath, satisfactorily inhaling that wonderful essence into his nostrils.

Freddie then began undressing. He took off his shirt and untied his belt, pushing down the light blue jeans along with his underwear. Jim could not deny to blush at that sight. The hairdresser used to prefer larger men, with muscular legs and arms. But since he started to hang out with Freddie, his mind suddenly began to wander about long-thin legs, slender, but firm arms and a waist so small that he could easily grasp it all between his hands. And that arse? _Oh, boy!_ He had never seen glutes as fit as those of the man in front of him.

Jim observed from the door, Freddie checked the water temperature, and then stepped in the tub, sitting comfortably inside the water letting out a pleasure sigh, his belly almost covered with soap bubbles.

He then turned to the Irishman with a confused look, the water getting higher and higher around his slim body.

_“Are you not coming in, my darling?”_

.

 

 _“Oh, boy! Isn’t that just great?”_ – Freddie sighed, letting his body relax even more under the warm bubbled water, leaning  toward Jim's body.  They were sitting in the bathtub, the water reached the height of their chests. Jim was leaned with his back against the white pottery of the one end of the tub, with the other man's back against his chest; Freddie was positioned between his legs. Jim’s hands were on the singer’s head, massaging his black strands, which at the moment, were covered with a very scented shampoo – _“You're really good at it”_

 _“No wonder I'm a barber, Fred”_ \- Jim joked, making circular movements on the frontman’s scalp.

_“I bet you give this treatment to all your clients”_

_“Only selected ones"_  - He let out a chuckle - _"I have a special room behind the saloon where I take them”_ – Freddie turned his face to the Irishman, his brown eyes wide and his hair full of bubbles. Jim laughed even more; that was a lovely image – _“I’m just kidding”_ \- Freddie grinned, leaving one little kiss on Jim’s wet cheek, and turning back to his position – _“Close your eyes, honey”_ –  he asked softly in the singer's ear, his thick accent echoing in Freddie's mind. He did as Jim asked, and soon the hairdresser began to pick water on his hands, gently taking the shampoo out of the other's hair, taking care not to drop too much soap on his face – _“There you go”_ – he took all shampoo out, and then pressed a small kiss on Freddie’s wet hair _– “Smells just like eucalyptus”_

Freddie chuckled slightly and opened his eyes slowly, a small smile playing on his lips under his mustache. Oh, boy, that was so good. Nothing was better than relaxing under the warm water of a tub after an exhausting day full of twists at the end. And even more after a good underwater shag with a wonderful Irishman. And to have that same Irishman massaging his head and taking care of his hair after all that, oh lord, that was divine.

Jim raised himself a little behind Freddie, who was just about to protest at the hairdresser action. But he stopped, observing the other man to pick up a light blue bath sponge and a liquid soap. Jim returned to his position, tossing a little of the liquid over the sponge and squeezing it between his hands making more bubbles. He then began to slowly slide the sponge over Freddie's tan skin, lathering it under his hands. Jim started by the shoulders, taking his time there, and seizing the opportunity to also massage the tense muscles with the tip of the fingers.

 _“Oh Lord”_ – Freddie moaned, leaning his back against Jim's hairy chest, allowing his eyes to close again, taking in the feeling of those fingers beneath his skin, relaxing with every touch – _“I do not know what I did to deserve this, but I must have done it right”_

 _“Do not be so excited. I'll want my payment later”_ – Jim replied, sliding his hands and the sponge into Freddie's arms, massaging his biceps.

_“And how do you want me to pay you?”_

Jim smirked. His soap hands were sliding the frontman’s arms.

 _“You're creative. Surprise me”_ – he whispered in Freddie's ear, making he shiver all over, even underwater.

 _“You naughty boy. And I always thought I was the pervert one” –_ Freddie shouted, guffawing. Oh, that was great. He felt just amazing. He could feel the hairdresser’s torso touching his back, rising and falling as he breathed. The skillful hands brushed against his warm and wet skin. It was all he needed at the end of _that_ day, definitely. To have Jim with him in the bathtub, cleansing his body with such dedication, that Freddie wished internally that it would be only and exclusively for him. For no one else - _“In fact, I still need to learn a lot more about you”_

 _“I thought you s_ _aid you knew me already” -_ Jim laughed lightly, feeling the slender body moving as Freddie giggled again, he began to lather the singer's torso, his hair chest began to be speckled with the white of the foam.

 _“I said I knew you a little” -_ Freddie answered, sighing _– “But you're so quiet… mysterious. I still cannot decipher you much” -_ He almost moaned as one of Jim's fingers touched his nipple unintentionally. So good _– “And I really don’t know that much about you”_

 _“You just need to ask me” –_ Jim answered naturally _– “What do you want to know?”_

Freddie took a deep breath, allowing his neck to nest on one of Jim's shoulders.

 _“All right” –_ he started _– “Tell me more about Ireland. How was your life there?”_

 _“Well, I was born in Carlow” -_ Jim started, abandoning the sponge and starting to take out the soap from Freddie, gently pouring water to his body – “ _I am the seventh of ten children”_

 _“Ten children?”_ \- Freddie exclaimed, surprised _– “Now I see why you have such a sex drive. It’s a family thing”_

 _“Sex drive? Look who says it” -_ Jim rolled his eyes playfully _\- “My father is a baker and_ _my mother is a housewife. I had a normal childhood, I guess. We always had to do some_ _extra work_ _to help at home. There were a lot of mouth to feed, but we did not go through hardship”_

 _“I see” –_ Freddie said _– “Does your family know?_

 _“Know what?”_ \- Freddie looked at him, his brown eyes shining with the reflection of the water and the weak light of the bathroom. Jim understood right away – _“That I am gay?” -_ Freddie nodded _\- “Oh, no, no! I never told them. Although sometimes I think they suspect” -_ He then wrapped his arms around the musician from behind, his own hands hugged him by the belly _\- “Do your parents know?_

 _“I never told them too” -_ Freddie began, stroking, with his thin fingers, the strong arms that surrounded him _– “They're very traditional._ _My family is Parsi descent, you see. They're still dealing with the fact that I'm a rock singer. But I think they are suspicious as well” -_ he smiled slightly _– “I have only one sister; I think she knows for sure. Even because the newspapers make a point of exposing my image all the fucking time. They just do not leave me alone” –_ Freddie seemed to nestle even more into Jim _– “But my parents never asked me anything. Usually they just ask me if I'm happy. That's enough for them”_

They were silent for a moment. Their arms interlaced in front of the singer. Freddie turned slightly toward him, managing to get the other man's brown eyes on focus.

_“How did you find out?”_

Jim gave him a little shrug.

“ _Just like everyone else, I guess”_ \- He replied _– “At school I was attracted to boys._ _But of course, as someone who came from a traditional catholic family,_ _I pretended to myself that I did not feel that. I even had some girlfriends in my adolescence” -_ He laughed a little _– “Then when I got a little older, I dated, for a couple of years, a girl named Clair” -_ He paused a moment as if searching for his memories _– “I liked her, she was a good company. Our parents wanted us to get married as soon as possible.”_

_“And what happened?”_

_“Well, one day we went to a friend’s wedding” -_ he started to narrate slowly _– “And while we were in the church, the priest began to speak some things that made me intrigued” -_ he paused again _– “He talked about sincerity, complicity, frankness… He said that if you want to share your life with someone, your heart should be open to all of this” –_ He looked away from Freddie’s eyes in a slightly sheepish manner _– “And it was all I could not be with Clair. Sincere,_ _complice_ _, frank. I broke up with her and moved to London; I think she still hates me, even after all those years –_ Another pause. Jim felt strange. He did not used to talk much about his early life. He did not remember mentioning to anyone what he'd just revealed to Freddie. That was ... a little new to him – _“You?” -_ he asked quietly.

 _“Oh, dear, I was engaged and even lived with a woman” -_ Freddie revealed, raising his eyebrows.

_“Really?”_

_“Yes, and I loved her very much. I still do”_ \- Freddie replied, turning his face forward and staring at the tiles on the tub. Jim looked in the same direction _– “But it was a different kind of love, you know. Pure, fraternal. Not a woman and man's kind of love” -_ Freddie sighed deeply, feeling Jim's arms tighten around himself a little more. He did the same thing, squeezing the other man's lighter skin carefully with his fingers _– “You see… I've always been attracted to men too. I told her that I thought I was bisexual. But she knew me so well, that she said she was sure I was gay”_

_“What happened to her?_

_“We're best friends nowadays, darling” -_ Freddie smiled openly _– “She takes care of part of my business. You'll meet her eventually. Her name is Mary”_

_“That's good, I'm glad you two get well”_

Jim leaned forward a little, his cheek resting on Freddie’s freshly washed hair. They remained that way for a moment. Their eyes fixed on some point forward and their minds wandering somewhere far away. The hands slowly caressed the other's skin, as their breaths somehow got synchronized.

 _“It's very beautiful what that priest said, don’t you think?”_ \- Freddie said after a while, thoughtfully.

 _“Yes, it is” –_ Jim replied, somehow knowing exactly what the other man was talking about.

_“A pity that even if there’s there to be found, some of us will never be able to have it”_

_“What do you mean?” –_ Jim frowned.

 _“Marriage” –_ Freddie simply said.

_“And why not?”_

_“As if this ridiculous society would allow a ‘bunch of fagots’ to marry” -_ Freddie rolled his eyes, a little disgust in his voice.

 _“I do not think marriage has anything to do with society precepts” –_ Jim said, shaking his head a little, his brown eyes still on some point just in front of them _– “After all, it's just a piece of paper. What matters is just what that priest said, don’t you think?” –_ he took a breath, remembering exactly what the old man in cassock spoke, his Irish accent was even stronger than the barber’s _– “Being open-minded to share your life with another person”_

 _“I suppose you’re right” –_ Freddie replied and he really was being honest. He did not know how they ended up on that subject. It was not the sort of topic Freddie used to talk about. With anyone. But that was another proof of how easily he and Jim could communicate. He liked that, but he could not deny that those types of topic bothered him. The truth was that he did not quite knew how to handle it. He, being who he was, having the life he had, always found it would be difficult to find real love. And he used to report it in his songs.

He turned to Jim, and the hairdresser lowered his eyes to meet his. They stared at each other for a few seconds, their eyes were shining beneath their wet eyelashes; their breasts were filling up with a sensation that none of them could describe what it was. Both were surprised. Hesitated. This was something new. That scared them a little. Freddie smiled awkwardly, feeling a little embarrassed. He was apprehensive of where that might go, so he tried to change the subject - _“Well, but it was not the paper I was talking about”_

Jim was relieved. He also felt a little odd with all that talk. So he was pleased that Freddie left all that that way.

_“Let me guess, you’d want to throw a memorable marriage party”_

_“How do you know that?” –_ Freddie frowned, impressed how Jim just knew what he was going to say.

 _“I kind of know you already, Freddie Mercury” –_ the hairdresser smirked _\- “A little, at least”_

Freddie giggled, realizing that Jim had intentionally imitated what he had said weeks ago. The singer tilted his head, still leaning on the other's shoulder, to stare at him better and brought one wet hand to the Irishman’s neck, pulling Jim to himself and kissing his lips. It began as a tender kiss; a simple brush of lips that gradually gained intensity and soon their tongues were fighting deliciously inside their mouths, their mustaches brushing against each other.

Freddie took his other hand over one of Jim's, that still rested on his own torax, and guided it slowly down, inside the water.

Jim smiled in the middle of the kiss.

 _“Again?” -_ he asked, his mouth already began to leave wet kisses on Freddie's neck.

Freddie let out a sigh, his whole body starting to burn.

_“Oh, yeah, darling. Again”_

.

_“What the hell is happening to you?”  -_ Barbara asked suddenly, which made Freddie almost choke on his lemonade. They were at a _Cafe_ , on the _Marienplatz_ , in the center of Munich in an ordinary afternoon on a weekday.

 _“What? Nothing!”_ – Freddie answered, picking up a napkin on the table and wiping his mouth – _“What is happening to you to almost freak me out to hell?”_

_“Oh, come on, Freddie! You know what I’m talking about, you’ve been acting weird!”_

_“I’m weird, dear. I don’t know if you’ve noticed it”_

Barbara narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the people who passed by, pointing and commenting about the famous friends.

_“I don’t see you in, like, ages!”_

_“Oh, Barbara. That does not stick with me. I know how to be as dramatic as you!” -_ he said, taking a sip of his juice – _“And we were together last Thursday, I must remind you”_

 _“You know very well what I'm talking about!”_ \- the blonde snarled. Freddie gave her an innocent look. Then she sighed in defeat, picking up her purse and pulling from it a red envelope and handed it to him.

 _“What is that?”_ – he asked, taking the paper in his hands.

 _“It’s from Winnie” -_ Barbara simply replied. Freddie opened the envelope and read it. It was an invitation to a dinner party, written in English – _“He's doing it to be with you”_

 _“Throwing a dinner party at his apartment?” -_ Freddie asked disbelievingly.

 _“You know how he is... But I can tell you that he's just trying to get closer. I helped him to write the note…” -_ she then pointed to the paper with her painted red nails _– “But look, it was he who wrote it” -_ she then stared at the singer intensely _– “He is really trying, Freddie” -_ Freddie said nothing, staring at the invitation for a moment - _“I think you should go, you know? It will be other people there. But I can assure you this is not Winnie's intention. He just wants you to go” - _Freddie looked up at his friend _\-  “You could at least show up there”_

 _“Why does not he search for me personally? –_ Freddie asked – _“Why does he need to do an event to simply see me? He knows where I live, if he wants to talk to me, he should just come to me”_

Barbara analyzed the man in front of her, finding the singer's words quite odd. She knew Freddie. Or at least she thought that she knew. She supposed Freddie would love the fact that his boyfriend was making an entire occasion for him to get closer to the German again. She was sure that Freddie knew that Winnie was a reserved guy. Opening his home so suddenly, with no specified date to celebrate, simply to have the presence of Freddie in there, was something very unusual for the chef to do. Barbara thought Freddie would appreciate that. But something was telling her that maybe she was wrong. Freddie was acting strange. Very strange.

 _“What is happening, honey?”_ \- she asked again. This time a little more serious. Freddie straightened in his chair. The summer sunlight’s rays touched his skin pleasantly. He did not know why, but something began to occupy his mind at that moment. Something began to scream in his head and snatch him in a way he had never felt before. Something about _sincerity, complicity_ and _frankness_. His heart thudded strangely inside his chest _._ That left somehow ... confusing. He brushed away those thoughts immediately, folding the delicate note written by Winnie and repositioned it inside the envelope.

 _“Nothing is wrong”_ – he replied, picking the lemonade in front of him again and drinking a large gulp, moistening his dry throat. Barbara continued to examine him, her light eyes watching the man's movements. Freddie felt even more uncomfortable. Not with Barbara, but with his own puzzlement and with the fact that he could not even explain why he was feeling that way – _“I’ll think about it, I promise”_

 

_._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Marienplatz_ \- Famous square in the center of Munich.


	5. Dessert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my, dears! First of all, I apologize for the delay to update the fic. Last week was very busy so I really did not have time to write. I tried to compensate you all with a long chapter, where the feelings of our protagonists begin to be more intense and confused.
> 
> I am trying to make the fic as realistic as possible, not only concerning to the facts that really occurred, but also with possible situations that could indeed have happened.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying it, let me know, okay? I definitely loved the comments and kudos from the previous chapter! Thank you so much!

Joe yawned, which seemed to be for the thousandth time. He took his glasses off his face, rubbing his eyes. The colorful lights of the nightclub were bothering him, as well as the loud electronic music that came to his ears. He was sitting at a circle of people from _“the family”_ , as Freddie used to call his friends from Germany. Everyone talked loudly because of music, drinking their drinks between laughers and smoking cigarettes.

But Joe was too tired to even bother doing the same, he tried to have some fun for few hours, but exhaustion had got him completely. He slept very poorly the night before. It was not something new. He was already used to it. Whenever Freddie became anxious or nervous, the singer simply did not sleep. Of course he forced anyone to stay awake with him. Not out of spite. Just for company, Joe knew it. Freddie did not like being alone.

He would walk around the apartment, or watch television or prepare something to drink - whether alcoholic or a simple tea - making noises in the kitchen, which would wake up anyone who was sleeping passively. And then he would lock the person on the couch, talking on and on as if it was daytime, not dawn.

The night before, in particular, Freddie was very restless, from what Joe realized. He had received an invitation from his supposed boyfriend - who he was still angry with - to a dinner at his house. He was very tempted to go, even because he had not seen Winnie in a while.  Freddie was convinced of Barbara's words about the purpose of such dinner party; he knew the German, Freddie knew very well that Winnie would not face him without giving any excuse. He wanted to know what the cook had to say.  He wanted to know if the plan, of making the other one jealous, was working. The singer wanted to know how much the plan was affecting Winnie. He could not help himself. He wanted so badly to go to that dinner and look right into the German's eyes; he wanted to see his dark eyes flashing with pure jealousy. He wanted to see how much he really cared if he was with _another_ man.

But there was _the problem_. This _other man_ was the problem. Freddie had already arranged a flight ticket for Jim to that same weekend to Munich. He would arrive in the next day, on the night of the dinner. He thought to cancel the trip and give some excuse to the Irishman so they would meet another day again. That was perhaps the easiest, the most sensible thing to do. That was what a small voice spoke to him in his head.

But the possibility of not being able to see the hairdresser that weekend bothered him a little.

He liked Jim's company; he liked when they were together.

 _“So… what is wrong with that?”_ – it was what Joe asked on the previous night, sitting on one of the sofas, with Freddie in front of him in one of the armchairs _– “I thought that was supposed to happen…” –_ he raised an eyebrow in a suspicious way _– “To bring Jim over here so Winnie could see you with him”_ \- Freddie swallowed hard _– “You've done it so many times before” -_ he continued with a strained voice, his fishy eyes on Freddie _– “Why would this time be different?_

Freddie coughed, diverting the American's attention.

 _“There is no difference, of course” -_ he shrugged, as if he did not care much – _“Do you think I should take him to the dinner with me, then?”_

 _“I didn’t say that…” –_ Joe said, his eyes went wide. He really did not like to give much hint in Freddie's life. Not that he did not care about his friend's well-being. He really cared. However, the decisions about the singer's life should be decided by Freddie himself, at least that the way the American thought. But sometimes Freddie needed a little push to stop making a decision that could be catastrophic – _“Do you think this is appropriated?”_

Freddie thought for a moment. Joe asked inwardly for common sense to reach the singer.

_“I think that it might be a better time for Winnie to see Jim”_

Joe sighed in relief.

_“What are you going to do about Jim then?”_

Why the fuck did Joe have to ask that?

Now there he was, in the middle of _New York_ club, babysitting Jim, so Freddie could go to that _damm_ dinner! Joe liked Jim, he was a nice guy; he was funny, someone really nice to talk to. So he was not annoyed by the fact that he had to be with him all night.

He was annoyed by the fact that he was exhausted - thanks to Freddie.

Playing the nanny - thanks to Freddie.

And unable to go home at that moment - thanks to Freddie!

He coursed the damm moment he promised to help the singer with his freaking plan! He just wanted to sleep, for God's sake!

 _“Joe”_ – he had heard his name; he took his hand out of his eyes, placing his glasses on again to face Jim, that was sitting next to him, managing to give him a smile – _“You look tired. You don’t need to stay because of me, buddy. You can have some rest, if you want to”_

 _“You’re right. I’m sorry, I am fucking tired” -_ he confessed yawning once more _– “But will you stay?”_

 _“I'd like to have a few more beers” -_ Jim said smiling, catching his _Mass Bier_ in his hand _\- “If you do not mind going back alone, of course”_

 _“No, that’s not the problem…” -_ the American replied _– “Do you… know how to get home?”_

Jim seemed to think for a moment, but before he could respond, one of the “ _family_ ” members leaned toward the other two men.

 _“I can walk him home, Joe. Do not worry” –_ a man said with a small smile. It was Patrick. He was Irish, just like Jim. But unlike Jim, he was red-haired and had dark blue eyes.

 _“Can you? Thanks”_ – Jim replied, and then turned to the American again – _“It’s ok. I’ll be fine. Go and rest a little” –_ the brunette Irishman smiled sincerely at him, giving him a slightly nod.

Joe blinked his sleepy eyes, also smiling to Jim in return, feeling some kind of friendly sympathy for him. Jim was a really nice guy.

_“Thank you, Jim”_

 

.

 

Freddie closed the front door behind him, then leaned his back against the wood for a few seconds, letting out a snort. He closed his eyes as he tried to calm a little down. What the hell was that? Oh, god! He was even angry with self to actually spending his time showing up at that bloody dinner!

There were not too many people at Winnie’s apartment. Just a couple of friends; Freddie knew them all. There was good wine and the dishes were delicious. He could not complain about that. But it was definitely not what Freddie expected.

Winnie didn’t talk to him. He didn’t even give him any attention. He pretended as if he wasn’t even there. Freddie was expecting him to even greet him when he arrived. But no! The singer just spent the whole evening, receiving piercing looks from the German. What the hell was Winnie waiting for anyway? For Freddie to knee down and ask him to get back to normal? Did not Barbara say that the cook was making that dinner to meet him again? So why the hell did he bother to throw that dinner party? To ignore Freddie and make him think he was wrong? Oh no, boy! Winnie _was wrong_! He was dealing with Freddie _Fucking_ Mercury! He was very much mistaken if he thought Freddie would crawl and ask him to come back! Freddie would never do that. _For no one!_

Freddie left the door, murmuring some inaudible cursing. He headed toward the kitchen, leaving his leather jacket on the couch. As soon as he got to the other room to get some water, his body collided with _something_. He let out a shrill scream just like the other _thing_.

 _“Liza! What the hell!?”_ \- he said, taking one hand to his chest, his heart had fired with fright – _“Do you want to freak me out to death?”_

 _“I’m the one to say that, Melina! For heaven’s sake!”_ \- Joe said holding his glass of milk. Lucky he had not thrown it to the ground – _“Why are you at home so early?”_

 _“The dinner sucked! I should not have gone there!”_ – Freddie answered, finally entering the kitchen and heading to the refrigerator – _“And what about you? I did not think I'd find you here by now” -_ Freddie continued, picking up a bottle of water and put the liquid in a glass cup. He noticed that Joe was wearing his pajama pants and a white T-shirt.

_“Well, someone kept me awake all night. I couldn’t sleep, I’m exhausted!”_

The frontman drank the water at once before turning to the American _._

 _“Do not be so dramatic. You did sleep!” -_ And then he headed to the living room, leaving the glass on the sink – _“Where is Jim?”_ – He asked – _“Is he in the bedroom?”_

 _“Jim didn’t come with me” –_ Freddie turned to his friend before entering to the corridor toward the bedrooms – _“He wanted to stay a little longer. I left him with the guys. But don’t worry. Patrick will walk him home”_

 _“Oh!” -_ Freddie exclaimed, trying to disguise his surprise – _“I see” -_ He said, seeming to think for a moment. Joe watched him divert his path to the corridor and head toward the couches. The singer sat down, taking the remote control from the coffee table and turning on the TV.

Joe gave him a wary glance from the kitchen door.

_“Will you wait for him?”_

_“No”_ \- Freddie said, switching channels and not looking at another man - _“I’m just not sleepy. I’m up to some old movies right now before going to bed”_

 _“All right!” -_ Joe replied, narrowing his eyes playfully to the singer – _“Good night, then!”_

And he was gone. As soon Joe left the room, Freddie glanced at the apartment front door, letting a sigh to get away from his lips.

 

.

_“And then he told me I was a fool! And we know how we Irish are… I just walked away, and did not go to work at that fucking department store again… next day I found a new job at Savoy Hotel’s Saloon and never came back there”_ – Jim said, laughing, and sipping the beer Patrick had just served. It was dawn, and New York had closed the doors. Patrick had promised to take Jim to Freddie's, as the hairdresser could not walk alone in streets of downtown Munich.

But the other Irishman offered a drink in his apartment, which was in the way to the singer’s home. Jim did not have much choice; he needed to use the toilet and still needed the other's help to get to his destination. And on top of that, Patrick was a cool guy. He was from the south of Ireland, just like Jim, from a town a few miles from Carlow. It had been a long time since he had met someone who had grown up in the same environment as him. That pleased Jim.

Patrick laughed at his story, also taking a sip from his beer. They were in the living room; Jim was seated on one stool in the bar facing the kitchen.

 _“Oh, boy. It’s so nice to hear our accent again. There are not many Irish people in Munich! I’m glad I found you… Jim. I’m really glad”_ – the red-haired said, smiling openly. He had a hoarse voice, a little too cheeky for Jim’s taste for the moment.  The hairdresser did not reply, giving him an odd smile, taking the beer and lifting it to the other man as a small toast. Jim took a large sip of it, leaving only a little bit of the liquid in the longneck.

_“It’s late. I think we should be going”_

_“Why? So soon?” -_ Patrick smiled at him again, taking another sip of his drink and then walked toward the other Irishman. He placed a hand on the man's cheek. And before Jim could protest, he sealed his lips with the hairdresser’s.

Jim's eyes widened for a moment, without reaction, then he pushed the other man away from him by the shoulders. Patrick tapped his back on the table of his small bar, but without much force.

 _“What the hell you think you’re doing!?”_ – Jim shouted, passing the back of the hand on his lips.

 _“What?!”_ – Patrick said in a confused look on his face – _“What do you think I’m doing?”_

 _“What...?”_ – Jim raised his dark eyebrows – _“Patrick…”_ – He stopped to looked at the other Irishman.

Patrick was a sturdy man. Not too tall; they were probably about the same height. The redhead had strong arms, muscular pectoral, his ginger goatee matched his clear eyes. Some time ago, he would be the kind of guy that would attract Jim's attention easily. But at the moment, it did not make any difference to him. And Jim was a little annoyed with himself for that. He was annoyed, because the first thing that came to his mind, when the redhead kissed him, were a pair of thin legs, silky hair as dark as the night, and warm red lips, just like the hottest summer.

He could not control it! All that night he could not get the other brunette man out of his head.

And that annoyed him a lot.

He did not expect that Freddie would not meet him at the airport. He was expecting a warm reception just like the other time. Jim was hoping to be able to feel the warm hug of the singer again, as the last weekend that he had traveled to Germany.

But Freddie was not there. He left Joe to greet him instead. And why? Ah, Joe had said that Freddie had an appointment already scheduled.

Jim was also disappointed. He could not deny it. Even because it was Freddie himself who had insisted on paying him another ticket so they could see each other in the Bavarian capital. He was upset.

Upset by the fact that Freddie did not go to meet him.

Upset Freddie had left Joe to take him out.

And he was even more upset with the fact that he could not stop thinking about the singer.

He looked at Patrick in front of him, the other man was observing him with a mixture of puzzlement and desire.

And the only thing that came to his mind…

It was Freddie's face.

 _“I’m sorry, Patrick” –_ Jim started, trying to choose the best words between the chaos that his mind just started to become _\- “But you got it very wrong”_ – Patrick wide his light eyes in confusion _– “I’m with Freddie…” –_ Jim said _– “…you know it”_

_“Yeah, I know it, but… what is wrong with it?”_

Jim narrowed his eyes. He was not mad about what the other said, but he was a bit perplexed.

 _“What is wrong?”_ – Jim asked back – _“I am with Freddie, Patrick”_ – he repeated. Maybe the other man hasn’t heard it well?

The redhead's expression suddenly changed. First from confusion to understanding. Then to total embarrassment. His freckled face became completely flushed; his ears were as red as ripe tomatoes.

 _“Oh God! I am so sorry, Jim. I mean-… I didn’t mean to-… I didn’t expected-… I totally misunderstood and…”_ \- Patrick could not finish a single sentence. He was ashamed. He tried to explain himself, but he could not stop stuttering and muttering disconnecting words.

 _“It’s ok”_ – Jim just replied in a quiet voice, trying to calm the other guy down.

 _“I didn’t mean to offend you…”_ – Patrick continued – _“Really not! I just did not think that you and Freddie... I mean, I knew about you and Freddie were… You know… But I didn’t expect that was…” -_ he was still making mess with the words as he gestured on and on, his face still ten shades of red more than normal.

 _“It’s fine, really. Just forget it, Patrick” -_ Jim said and drank the last sip of his beer.

An awkward silence fell on them. The whole situation was very uncomfortable for Jim. He really did not expect it to happen, he just wanted to leave at that moment. Yes, that was the best to do. He was about to suggest it once more, but Patrick interrupted him, his low voice filling the room first, while he asked Jim a question:

_“How are you guys doing, so far?”_

Jim swallowed, looking away from Patrick for a second. Now, that was a very personal question to ask, wasn’t it? It made the brunette man even more uncomfortable. He turned his gaze to the redhead again, getting ready to dislodge that question. But as he looked into Patrick’s eyes, he did not find any kind of malice, that was there minutes before.

That seemed to be just a heartfelt question. Jim sighed before replying:

 _“It's nothing serious if you're wondering that” -_ he shrugged a bit sheepishly – _“We're just getting to know each other, I guess. It's not like we're exclusive or anything, but ...”_ \- Jim felt his face blush; he was sure he could be as red as the other Irishman was seconds ago – _“I just don’t feel comfortable being with another man when I’m with someone else”_ \- he smiled shyly, trying to hide his face by looking away again – _“It's very stupid, I know”_

 _“That's not stupid” –_ the other man said slightly _– “I think that's exactly what makes you so special”_

 _“Oh, please” –_ Jim rolled his eyes playfully.

 _“I mean it. Freddie is lucky. I hope he knows that” -_ Patrick gave him a strange look with a small odd smile – _“It seems to me he is the kind who treats like dessert who deserve to be the main dish”_

 _“What do you mean by that?” –_ Jim have heard, but haven’t actually understood. _Dessert?_

 _“It’s nothing wrong by that” –_ Patrick grinned, finishing his own beer _– “I love to play dessert role. But you’re definitely not the dessert kind of guy, you see” –_ he smiled at Jim once more, who continued to give him a questioning look. Patrick sighed, heading for the little sofa and grabbing his jacket and Jim’s, holding it out to him.

Jim caught it, watching the other man to go toward the main door. Before opening it, Patrick looked the hairdresser up and down. He was still sitting in the barstool, his brown eyes looking at him in confusion. _Yes, Freddie was very lucky._ Patrick just hoped the singer really knew that already.

_“Come on, buddy. Let’s go. I’ll walk you home”_

 

.

 

Freddie took a sip of his tea, feeling the sweet taste of fresh milk mingle with the kind of weed he chose to savor that morning. He was in the kitchen, his back to the sink, his face turned to one of the windows, staring at the blue summer sky of Munich.

He turned his attention to the living room, succeeding to capture from that distance, the other man who was sitting on one of the sofas. Jim had Oscar on his lap, and was stroking behind the cat's ear, to which the animal kept purring in gratitude.

Freddie sighed. He did not like that situation. He and Jim had not been talking since the night before. Freddie was so accustomed to the ease that he and the Irishman had to talk and understand each other that he was not able to deal with that lack of dialogue. This was new to him.

Well, it was the singer’s own fault, after all. Freddie just stopped talking to Jim since the hairdresser had came home the night before. Freddie was a little annoyed, he could not deny it. Jim had lain beside him on the bed, probably thinking the musician was already asleep. He was wrong. Freddie was very awake. And when the frontman asked him where he had been, what did Jim say? That he was with Patrick!

_With Patrick!_

Freddie was annoyed, he just could not help himself. But at the same time he felt a puzzled with that circumstance that he was imposing. _He_ was at Winnie's dinner the other night, wasn’t he? He was the one whom chose to go there. He wanted to go. Why would he be upset with Jim? Jim was not his property, for him to feel the right to be angry because he was out with Patrick. After all, they were only having some fun together.

_Right?_

The real reason Jim was there it was not for Freddie to feel possessive in any way.  What they had there… it was nothing even serious. And Jim seemed to see that way too.

At least, that was Freddie thought.

Or pretended to think.

He took a deep breath, deciding he did not have to continue behaving like that with the Irishman. He would not be the one who would be mad about such bullshits. There was nothing to be mad about!

Freddie then walked toward the living room, leaving his cup of tea on the center table and sitting down beside the hairdresser on the couch. Jim looked up at him, seemed surprised. In fact, he _was_. Freddie had not addressed to him all that morning, Jim also said nothing, preferring to avoid to make things worse. Freddie was not in his best mood, Jim could tell.

But now, suddenly and unexpectedly to Jim's point of view, the singer was giving him a little apologetic smile. Jim stopped caressing Oscar, to which the cat cried in protest. Neither of them seemed to notice it. Their eyes were fixed on each other's.

Freddie felt his body shiver, just by looking directly at Jim at that moment. Ever since Jim had arrived in Munich that weekend and Freddie had decided to give the cold shoulder, he had not allowed himself to watch the Irishman. Lord! He seemed to have forgotten how handsome Jim was. His sweet brown eyes watched the singer intently, waiting for him to say what he had to say. Freddie's lips went dry suddenly, and he had to moisten them with his tongue before finally proceeding:

 _“I’m sorry about yesterday”_ – Jim noticed that the musician seemed to make some effort to say that. From the little he already knew about Freddie, it was clear that he did not like to give in and apologize – _“I should have gone to pick you up at the airport. But I really had to go somewhere else…”_ – he added, as Jim just stared at him, listening carefully to his words – _“I did not want you to feel ... left aside ... or anything”_

 _“I did not feel that way. It’s fine”_ – Jim replied, returning to caress little Oscar as the cat meowed again; this time running his fingers all over the cat's back – _“If you had an appointment, it’s all right, Fred”_ – and he gave the singer a small odd smile – _“Actually I had some fun last night, so that’s ok”_

 _“Good”_ – it was Freddie’s turn to give Jim a strange grin, pretended to look as indifferent as possible. Well, maybe he didn’t expect that reaction. He actually thought that Jim would complain a little about the absence of reception or about the lack of explanation of where he would go. Freddie was right, then. Jim was not giving much thought to the little affair they had. It was just _something_ to pass the time, something delicious, but not very important.

 _Great!_ Freddie thought. Because it was just the way he felt, too _! Jim and him?_ That was no big deal! In fact, after the fiasco that had been that dinner at Winnie’s, he should be grateful that Jim was there that weekend to blow up his plan. That was exactly _why_ he and Jim were hanging out, it was not?

Of course Freddie enjoyed – a lot - the sex they had…

And the company…

And the laughers…

And the caresses…

And the conversations…

 _BUT_ the point was that Jim was there to make Winnie jealous.

And that was what Freddie was going to do. That was it!

Poor Freddie. He could not imagine that Jim's head was as confused as his.

The hairdresser could not get out of his head what Patrick had told him last night. Dessert, he said? Was Jim a dessert? That made Jim very suspicious. He began to wonder if Freddie would have someone out there. Was Freddie just having fun with him all this time?

 _Stop it!_ Jim thought to himself. What was that all about? He had no right to feel angry with Freddie, didn’t he? After all, they had nothing serious. Jim knew it! He was no foolish teenager to idealize some relationship with the singer. Freddie did not look like the kind of guy who would get madly involved with someone. And it was not too long since they were seeing each other. Jim could not ask anything from Freddie.

The Irishman looked up at the singer, as one of the other man's hands also began to stroke Oscar on his lap, at which the kitten seemed to be so delighted to have them both giving him attention. Freddie offered Jim another smile, this time a little hesitant and timid. Jim got the message. Freddie wanted to leave that boring situation aside. Well, he wanted that too. It was a lot to think about. Maybe he was dramatizing too much.

Jim left it that way, and offered Freddie a sincere smile, dispersing any thoughts he was having about the subject or anything that had a deal with _dessert_.

But the fact was that Jim really was Freddie's _dessert_.

However, what the two of them still did not realize - or pretended not to -, was that Jim was starting to be more than only the _dessert_.

He was also beginning to be Freddie’s _entrée_.

The delicious _main dish_ too _._

And the hot sugared _coffee_ of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Mass bier_ – a cup with one liter of beer. 
> 
> _For no one!_ – well, Freddie asked Jim to come back a couple of time later on, right? I think he changed his mind! ;D


	6. Mocaccino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear ones! Yeah, I managed to update this week! Let's put more emotion in this story, after all, a little competition does not hurt anyone, right?
> 
> Thank you all for reading the fic! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> xoxoox

Winnie clenched his teeth so hard he could possibly break them. He felt his blood bubble inside his veins, while the mixture of jealousy and anger took him over. He stared at the two men sitting on a leather sofa at one corner of _New York, New York_ , the arms of the slender man were wrapped in the other guy’s neck while he gave him kisses on the neck. The chef could see that the bigger man seemed a little uncomfortable with that, but his partner seemed not to care about it at all, now leaving little kisses all over his face.

Freddie had definitely gone out of any limits. How dare he show up there with that guy after he'd gone to his home the night before? Freddie had not even spoken to him then. He had made that damn dinner to meet him, and the musician did not even bother to go and talk to him. Barbara had told him it was his own fault. She had said it must have been Winnie the one to try to get contact with the other one that night. But why did he have to do it? Why was Freddie so difficult after all? Why did not he make it easier?

Now Winnie was there, sitting by the bar with a glass of Whisky on one hand, being forced to watch Freddie in the arms of another man. Barbara was mistaken when she said that this _Jim guy_ looked like him. Although they had the same dark hair and mustache, their faces and bodies were very different; that Irishman had a calm and serene face, something that he, _Winnie_ , could not have. But he hated to admit that she was right when she said he was handsome. And he hated that.

All Winnie wanted was to be able to reach them and rip Freddie out of there.  

But he could not. Not only did his pride not allow it, but he also did not have the courage to do so. He and Freddie had always had a rather tumultuous relationship and it was common for them to try to hurt themselves that way. They used to appear in front of each other with other companies when they were angry, just to upset the other one.

But this time Freddie was going too far. It had already been a long time, which they had no contact with. He missed the singer.

He missed the company, the laughers... He missed Freddie’s warm body hugging him, as he was doing at that moment with _that_ man. He missed those kisses that were supposed to be his. Winnie started to think that he was going insane. He did not know if he could stop himself.

He wanted Freddie back.

A pair of brown eyes met his own across the large club. Jim stared at him for a while with a blank expression. Winnie narrowed his eyes at his direction, trying to make his expression as grumpy as possible. Jim did nothing, just continued to look at him, and Winnie could not explain what the other man was thinking. He did not look away from the German, holding his gaze intensely. Winnie did the same, waging at distance a strange battle with the other one. He just shifted his attention as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Barbara.

 _“It's time to stop staring and to start acting, don’t you think?”_ – she said to him with a small smile on her well maked up face.

Winnie grunted in response, turning back to the two men in the other corner. They were no longer there. Freddie's hand was intertwined with Jim's as the singer led the Irishman to the dance floor.

 _“You’re right”_ – he said with a bitter taste in the mouth; and it was not his drink taste – _“It’s time”_

 

.

 

It was nearly midday. And even though it was the beginning of summer, the London’s sun was timid and the sky had its typical gray color. However, it was still warm. Everyone wore light clothes; tank tops or shorts, as they walked on the streets; and inside the houses, the windows were always open welcoming any gust of wind that could refresh the day.

Jim was in the kitchen, wearing only his jeans. He was unfamiliar with the drawers and cabinets there, so he tried to make no noise while he searched for the utensils he wanted. He supposed everybody was still sleeping at the apartment, which was hardly surprising; they've been partying all night in _Heaven_ , drinking all kinds of drinks and cocktails. Jim remembered that they had bet who could drink more shots of Tequila. Freddie had won, of course. Jim got dizzy, but extremely happy and too talkative for his usual self. Phoebe began to chatter with anyone that crossed his way, speaking aloud and telling stories about anything that came to his mind. Peter Straker got lost on the dance floor, where he did a lot of crazy choreographies that didn’t even match the music that was playing and Joe got so drunk that he slept on one of the VIP area couches, hugged to a blond man who was so slender that his friends were afraid the American would hurt the poor guy with his muscular-worked-out arms.

When they got home, it was almost morning. Joe was being nearly carried by Phoebe, who had not stopped talking all the way to Freddie's apartment at Stafford Terrace.

Jim smiled to himself checking the milk he had put on the stove; it was already hot, so he took it off carefully. He got a kind of mixer and started working to make the milk creamy. Jim heard footsteps toward the kitchen, and he turned, finding Freddie walking to his direction, rubbing one sleepy eye; he wore a colorful robe and his black hair was so messy that made an abstract shape on the top of his head.

 _“Good morning”_ – the singer said, reaching Jim. He hugged him from behind, his hands entwining beneath his bare abdomen and placed a small kiss on the Irishman's neck – _“I didn’t notice that you were already awake”_

 _“I didn’t want to wake you up” -_ he answered, appreciating the silk of the robe that touched his naked back and the warmth that Freddie’s body emanated from beneath the cloth.

 _“There would be no problem, darling. It's already late in the morning. I’ve slept a lot_ ” - he answered, resting his chin on Jim's shoulder, smelling the amazing masculine scent that came from the other man’s skin -  _“What are you doing?”_ \- he asked, watching the hairdresser put creamy milk into two cups that had already been half filled with black coffee and chocolate, so Freddie identified. That smelled good as well. It smelled just like a sweet summer morning.

 _“An Irish specialty” –_ Jim grinned _– “A recipe that was passed from family to family. It’s a little secret from the south of Ireland”_

 _“A secret?”_ \- Freddie raised an eyebrow, his arms tightening around Jim, as he listened with pleasure to Jim's strong accent while he spoke - “ _And were you taking this to me in bed?" -_ He whispered on Jim’s ear, his warm breath smelling like mint; he had brushed his teeth before leaving the bedroom.

 _“I…” –_ Jim hesitated for a moment, feeling his cheeks flush. Freddie had that effect on him. When the singer wanted, he knew exactly how to make him speechless – _“I was going to drink them both” -_ He joked.  It was the only way out that he found, at that moment, from the cheeky words of the lead singer. Freddie already knew that Jim was shy. And he loved to tease and see Jim embarrassed about something that he said. It was so charming. His cheeks turned pink and the Irishman always avoided his gaze. It was lovely.

 _“Liar”_ \- Freddie laughed, finally letting go of the other man and sitting down on one chair at the kitchen table. Jim took the two hot cups to place on there.

 _“I know you like tea_ ” - The hairdresser started, sitting at one end of the table beside Freddie – _“But I thought you might want something stronger today”_

 _“You're right, dear” –_ Freddie said, taking one of the cups to himself _– “I drank a lot yesterday. But I don’t have a hungover, thanks to you” -_ Jim took a sip of his coffee, raising his eyebrows at the singer – _“You made me drink almost a liter of water when we got home. I was not so drunk to forget it”_ – Freddie gave him a smile – “ _How are you feeling?”_

_“I’m fine. No hangover. I’ve drunk a liter of water too. It made me feel better”_

_“Oh! I know you were feeling better…”_ – Freddie smirked, his expression a bit naughty on his sleepy face – _“Your performance last night was wonderful” -_ Jim laughed shyly, remembering the sex they had that dawn. As they were both a bit drunk, Jim was a bit embarrassed that the others, who had also slept at the flat, had heard the loud moans they had tried to smother between the bedsheets. Freddie also laughed, his gaze still fixed on the hairdresser and carried his cup to his mouth – _“Wait a minute”_ – he said, licking his red lips, tasting the hot liquid that came to his tongue– _“This is no Irish recipe. This is a Mocaccino!” -_ Jim laughed. His eyes squeezed behind his long eyelashes, and Freddie felt his chest warming as that lovely dimple appeared on the barber’s right cheek.

 _“And who did say that Mocaccino is not Irish, sweetheart?” _\- Jim replied, laughing hard while he drank more of his coffee _– “Didn’t you like it?_

Freddie took a big sip, feeling the nice taste of chocolate syrup, strong coffee and hot creamy milk warming his throat.

 _“It's delicious!” –_ he said, drinking another sip, and swallowing with pleasure. He watched Jim stare at him for a few seconds. The Irishman smiled even more, his cheeks almost touching his eyes.

 _“You’ve got a milk mustache on your mustache” -_ Jim told him, and without a second thought, brought his hand to Freddie's face and began to clean the top of his lips with his thumb. Freddie felt the warmth emanating from Jim's hand on his face. The other man’s finger brushing against his lips, made him shiver beneath his robe. He watched Jim's eyes meeting his owns when he finished his task; his hand did not leave the frontman’s cheek; Freddie’s heart began to race without explanation.

It seemed so juvenile. How did a simple touch make Freddie feel that way? A man like himself, so experienced and astute. That Irishman made him feel like a mere teenager who had never experienced anyone else's caresses. It was so unexplained, they already had _intimacy_ for some time now, their bodies were already familiar to each other, and yet Freddie felt his stomach twist in pleasure as Jim touched him. He felt like he was burning.

Freddie took one of his hands toward the other brunette man’s face as well, also beginning to caress it. Jim was just gorgeous, he thought, as his fingers went through the hairs of Jim’s face. Freddie smiled.

 _“I liked the beard” -_ he confessed as his fingers wandered over his full beard, his voice was tender and whispered – _“Have I said it already?”_

 _“A couple of times yesterday” –_ Jim replied _– “And earlier this morning too” –_ he grinned  _– “That was a mistake indeed. I was trimming my mustache and I cut it too much. It was horrible” –_ he explained _– “Either I'd take it all off or leave the beard”_

 _“You're a barber. You cut mustaches well” -_ Freddie ran his fingers through Jim's lips _– “Were you distracted by something?”_

Yes. He was. And it was _Freddie_ himself who distracted him. Jim's head was a chaos after his last visit to Munich. It had been fifteen days more or less. As soon as he had left Germany, after all what had happened that weekend – Freddie's absence at the airport, the confirmation that Freddie actually had a supposed boyfriend in Germany, Freddie's behavior at the night club, showing Jim off as if he was a trophy to make jealous that German who Barbara pointed out as Freddie’s partner - he tried to convince himself that he would confront Freddie about it all. That past weekend He wanted to clear tell him that he was not willing to play that role, he was not willing to be a toy, a mere tool between a lovers’ fight.

But Jim could not. Jim fell silent. And he did not feel good about it.

He was confused. Freddie confused him. While it was now clear to Jim the singer's real intentions about their _affair_ , when they were alone, Freddie behaved in a completely different way from his supposed purpose. Freddie was affectionate with him, hugged him, listened to him attentively. He was always full of caresses and attention.

And when Jim returned to England, they wrote to each other a few times. It was as if _nothing_ had happened. It seemed like something normal, just like any beginning of relationship where people used to strive to get to know each other better, to please and always be around.

Jim did not understand Freddie. A voice, deep in his head, was telling him, that if he did not wish to get so intensely involved in that story, maybe it was time to step back. But he could not say that to Freddie. Especially when the singer looked at him that way he was just looking at him right then. His eyes glittered in his direction, lively and intense. At that moment Jim did not feel like any game. It seemed to Jim that, at least at that moment, there was only him in Freddie’s mind. It was what he wanted to believe. And it was what he said to that voice in his head that told him to back off. Jim did not want to back off.

 _“What is it?”_ – Freddie asked softly; it seemed to Jim as he just had hummed one of his songs. Freddie had noticed that Jim was looking at him with a lost gaze, and he was curious to know what the Irishman was thinking about.

 _“Nothing” -_ he replied, realizing he had probably watched the singer for a long time while he was daydreaming.

 _“Come on, tell me” -_ Freddie insisted, in a way that Jim was sure he could get everything he wanted

 _“It’s just…”_ \- he began, tempted to say to him.

“ _What?”_

 _“I like your eyes” -_ he confessed, his cheeks flushing slightly. Jim did not usually express himself like that, and he knew he might not be able to do it so well.

 _“My eyes?” -_ Freddie blinked.

 _“Yes”_ – he confirmed, trying to choose the better words to keep on – _“They’re big and intense… they’ve got this nice brown color”_ – he whispered unsure, trying to explain to the musician what he's got on his head at that very moment – _“I just like to look at them. They make me feel good”_

Freddie was not expecting it. It pleased him so much; he was delighted to hear Jim talking that way about him

 _“I like your eyes too. They are so warm and comforting… It’s like this Mocaccino you’ve made…” –_ he told him as well, looking straight to the other brown eyes, some shades darker than his own, but so amazingly beautiful _– “They are both just… delicious”_

Jim could not resist. He leaned forward, joining his lips with Freddie’s; they closed their eyes at the same time. It was a sweet kiss, slow and intense. Their tongues touched tenderly between their lips; that mixture of coffee, chocolate and milk could be felt in both mouths. So good. That was perfect for that nice weekend’s morning.

Both men felt ecstatic. Lightweight. And at the same time so hot, nearly exploding. Jim caressed Freddie's face, feeling the singer reach a hand to the nape of his neck, pulling Jim’s hair and, somehow, bringing him closer.

Jim forgot about everything. Everything. He forgot about Munich. He forgot about that German _boyfriend_ of Freddie’s. He just focused on kissing the other man, feeling that mixture of mint’s toothpaste and chocolate syrup that his lips had at the moment. He wanted to curse that effect that _Freddie Mercury_ had on him. It was something that if he was not careful, soon it’d be out of control. He could not deny that he was apprehensive. Because he felt, within himself, that every hour, every extra minute he spent with the singer, he would sink deeper and deeper. And more and more it would cost him to just leave. And it would cost more and more to say _no_. 

But Jim did not want to think about it. Not in that moment. He hushed that annoying voice on his head one more time, and just did not think about anything.

And let alone Freddie, who was, in that instant, entwining his fingers in the Irishman's brown hair, feeling the pleasure that it was that short beard brushing against his skin. Kissing Jim was so warm, so welcoming, so good that the musician simply could not think of anything either. He could simply erase anything that wandered his confused thoughts or distressed his heart. Freddie tried not to give importance or pretend not to notice how much his body and mind responded to that man. He tried to convince himself that he did not mess with him that much. But he did. Oh, Lord; he did. His heart beat unexpectedly hard against his chest, his stomach twisted in anxiety, his hands even sweated in anticipation. Jim also had a powerful effect on him. And perhaps even Freddie still did not realize how much.

A cough from the kitchen door caught them by surprise, making them sudden stop the kiss.

 _“Come on, children… get a room!_ ” – It was Phoebe who said playfully, entering the kitchen laughing slightly. Both Freddie and Jim were a little embarrassed by being caught red handed.

 _“We’ve got a room just on the corner, Phoebe-darling_ ” - Freddie responded with an innocent expression, recovering from the surprise; his face was still a little flushed.

 _“Then use it!” –_ Phoebe pointed out.

_“We did!”_

_“Fred!” -_ Jim said, his face completely red once more.

 _“Do not worry, Jim. I'm already used to this little brat” –_ Phoebe said, laughing and opening a cupboard; he picked up a mug from there.

 _“Oh, there is still black coffee and hot milk over there” -_ Jim said, pointing to the stove as he tried to change the subject at once _– “I made some Mocaccino, do you want some?”_

 _“Just black coffee is fine” -_ Phoebe answered, serving himself. He took a good sip of the black liquid, leaning his back against the sink _– “By the way, what did I do last night? My back hurts!”_

Freddie and Jim exchanged amused looks and then bursted out laughing.

 _“Nothing much” –_ Jim replied jolly  _– “You made a speech that would make the prime minister jealous, in the middle of Heaven”_

Phoebe's light eyes widened.

 _“And you picked up the phone number of anyone who crossed in front of you” -_ Freddie added, raising his eyebrows – _“You left the list over there on the coffee table, by the way. You can have a different date every day for a year!”_

 _“My god!” –_ Phoebe shouted, putting one hand to his face with shame.

 _“And you carried Joe to his room” –_ Jim gave the final sentence – _“I’ve tried to help you, but you hushed me away saying that you could handle him”_

 _“Oh, that’s why!” –_ Phoebe now understood why he got a sore back – _“I’ll, no more, go for these drinking games, got it Melina?! No more!” -_ He turned to Freddie determined, but a smile still played on his face _– “Where are Liza and Peter?”_

 _“They are still sleeping” –_ Freddie replied _– “Let’s just leave them, I think they need it” -_ Freddie got up suddenly starting to go towards the living room.

 _“Where are you going?” –_ Phoebe asked.

_“To make a call, I’ll be back in a second”_

Phoebe watched Freddie disappear through the door and headed to the Irishman’s direction, also sitting down at the table while drinking his coffee.

 _“So, Hutton…” –_ He started with a small grin on his chubby face – _“What are your intentions with my boy?”_

Jim laughed.

 _“I think the right question is what are his intentions with me” –_ it made Phoebe laughed as well.

_“Freddie knows how to be very resourceful, I know”_

_“Yes, he knows how” -_ Jim answered, glancing at the door where the singer had left.

 _“But you guys seemed pretty close now” –_ the other one continued, making the hairdresser’s attention turn to him again _– “It surprised me a lot, knowing both of you for a long time...” -_ Phoebe noticed that Jim's smile had diminished a bit _– “I'm not saying this is a bad thing” -_ he affirmed then, trying to make sure that Jim would understand where he wanted to get _– “On the contrary, I am very happy that you’re getting along so well. It's a very good surprise!”_

 _“Well, I think everything is still very new, you see” -_ Jim spoke a little uneasily, moving uncomfortably on the chair. His thoughts once again became confused _– “We have very different lives”_

_“Do you like him?”_

That simple question took Jim by surprise. He did not need to think too hard to respond.

_“I do”_

Phoebe smiled, his big cheeks round above his lips.

_“I think he likes you too”_

_“Does he?” –_ Jim narrowed. He did not want to sound hesitant, but he had the impression that he failed blatantly.

 _“Look, Jim, I know Freddie can be difficult sometimes” -_ Phoebe started; his voice calm and composed. Phoebe knew Jim, they had worked together in a department store years ago. Jim was a quiet, sensible person. The assistant could not deny that his relationship with someone like Freddie was unexpected. Phoebe knew Freddie too, and very well. Freddie was extravagant and unstable. But something about that strange union made Phoebe somehow feel extraordinarily good and comfortable with that – _“But I assure you he's a brilliant guy. Good and kind. And I honestly think that ...” -_ he paused, hesitating to say what he had in mind.

 _“Yes?” –_ Jim asked curious.

_“That maybe all he needs is someone like you in his life”_

Jim did not have time to respond that, as Freddie appeared again in the kitchen looking very excited.

 _“All right them, everything's solved!”_ – the singer said, clapping his hands once – _“Let's start getting ready!”_

 _“For what?”_ – Phoebe asked, narrowing his eyebrows.

 _“Lunch! I just called Steve and asked her to book a nice restaurant” – _he replied, going to the table, taking the rest of his Mocaccino and drinking it all at once; any lack of energy was totally restored. He then turned to Jim with the sweetest smile on his face, his expression so tender as he stared at the Irishman, which could not be ignored by Phoebe smart eyes, who smiled in approval without either Jim or Freddie noticing as he buried his face in his coffee mug _– “Today you’ll meet my Mary, my Jim”_

_._

Freddie's fingers strummed the guitar. No real rhythm was actually being sounded while the musician played the chords and melodies came to his mind. Freddie was inspired at that evening in Munich. He had not felt that way in a long time. So full of ideas, notes of music and words that could be rhymed in so many different lyrics. Although he had been working for a while on his solo albums, it seemed like ages, that he did not feel so comfortable and exhilarated to compose. He could not explain where that feeling came from; but it was so good, and made him feel wonderful; full of life.

He was sitting on one of the armchairs, a cup of tea was lying warm on the coffee table, and his notebook was full of scribbles and music notes.

He hummed to himself, trying to find the right tone for his voice through the sounds the guitar made. He wanted to be able to call at that very moment to Roger, Brian and John, so they could meet and he could share the millions of ideas he had in his thoughts. But unfortunately, his bandmates were probably in their homes in London, spending their time with their families and their own chores. He did not feel good about it. Sometimes he wished he could be closer to _Queen_ so he could simply get together whenever they felt like to.

But at that moment he had only himself to share the emotions he put in those chords. His heart was full of feelings and he wanted to put it a little out.

The noise of the bell awoke him from his thoughts.

He set the guitar aside, getting up; it should be Joe. He had gone out to buy what he needed for dinner.

 _“Did you forget your keys again, Liza?”_ \- he said as he walked toward the door, a little annoyed at the interruption of his inspirational moment – _“What would you do if I was not home?” –_ he asked opening the door.

His eyes blinked in surprise as he found Barbara in front of him.

 _“Hello, dear”_ – she said, with a big smile on her face.

_“Barbara! I was not expecting you, darling”_

_“Is it a bad time?”_ \- She asked, stretching her neck to see beyond Freddie's shoulder, as if looking for someone inside the apartment.

 _“Not at all. It's never a bad time for a friend's visit” –_ he smiled at her _– “Were you missing me?” –_ he made way for her to enter the flat. She did not do it; to which Freddie thought was strange. Barbara would normally already have been sitting comfortably on his couch by now.

 _“I did miss you, Freddie”_ – she replied with a grin – _“But I must say that it’s not me who misses you the most”_

Another person appeared behind Barbara, carrying a hesitant expression on the face, a red roses bouquet in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other one.

Freddie's eyes widened.

_“Winnie…?”_

_._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Steve _ \- Mary's nickname given by Freddie.
> 
> One thing I know for sure, there are only two people who were not confused in this story so far.
> 
> And they are Phoebe and Barbara, don't you guys think? ;D


	7. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear ones! I'm sorry for taking too long to update, I hope I could compensate you with this chapter!  
> Leave a comment and let me know what you thought about it.  
> I will try to write the next chapter faster!  
> Thanks again for reading it!  
> xoxox  
> 

Freddie closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The light wind shook his short hair and a _fresh_ scent filled his lungs. That was good. Freddie was an urban person; he liked to walk on the streets, listening to the movement of cars and people talking in the city, he loved stylish clothes, and bars and hectic nightlife. But he also enjoyed places like that. Quietness, subtle noises, extraordinary views that only nature could provide.

He felt calm, his muscles were relaxing little by little and his mind started to get clear. It pleased him a lot, since confusing thought were consuming him during the past couple of days. Freddie allowed himself, in that simple moment, to try to forget everything that was going through his mind. Disturbed feelings that would not leave him alone were put aside and the singer sought only to appreciate the tranquility that the altitude of the Bavarian Alps emanated.

He could not remember the last time he felt that way; restless and confused with feelings he could not control. He felt an unexpected insecurity, so unfamiliar to him. During those last days he felt like he did not know what the next step was. He felt lost in a situation that _he_ had put himself in. He had done it himself.

Freddie tried to convince himself that _it_ was no big deal. That it was exactly _what_ he wanted. But those mixed emotions, that consumed his chest, told him the opposite. That anxiety of not knowing what to do, that uncertainty of making the wrong decisions. He tried to ignore it all, every time he found himself thinking too much about _that_ during that week. But it was only now, with that beautiful view from the little cottage on top of the mountains, that he finally felt free of that mental maze.

His mind was blank, and his senses cleared. He could hear the singing of birds and the sound of rushing water of a stream nearby; he could smell fresh grass and molten ice too; he could feel the timid rays of the twilight touching his skin. That was really good.

Freddie heard footsteps on the wooden floor approaching the balcony where he stood facing the amazing view and then he felt a pair of arms hugging him from behind. He took a deep breath, still with his eyes closed, appreciating the proximity of another body to his own. Then a mouth came close to his ear, and his body vibrated in anticipation as he waited for what would be said with that thick accent that he simply adored…

_“Freddie…”_

There was an accent. But it was not this one he was hoping so bad to hear.

Freddie opened his eyes suddenly; his muscles tensed again and the confusion returned to his mind at once.

He turned slowly, staring with an expression of surprise at a smiling _Winnie_ , as if he was not the one he expected to see.

His heart pounded and he swallowed.

_Oh, God!_

What the hell was _happening_ to him?

 

.

 

Winnie opened the door to his apartment, giving the other man a small smile. Freddie grinned strangely, entering the room with his bag under his shoulder. That was weird. So weird. Winnie could not help but be apprehensive and confused by that. By _all_ that.

Freddie had agreed to travel with him to the Alps, after Winnie appeared at his house during that past week. The German was very hesitant with all _that_ situation, but the fact that Freddie had agreed to go to a small trip with him, made Winnie very happy and hopeful that they would continue exactly from where they had left behind. They both were already used to that kind of situation. It was routine since they started their _affair_. They’d fight, they’d try to hurt each other, but then they’d give in and everything would go back to normal.

And that was what he wanted.

He wanted Freddie back.

He wanted Freddie for  _himself_.

He wanted _Freddie_ to be _his_.

_ Mine._

But apparently, it was not what happened _that_ time.

Freddie was acting strangely. Very strangely. He avoided his gaze all the time and always gave him some kind of odd grin. He seemed to drift a lot, his gaze lost on some object or fixed through the windows toward the mountains.

Winnie wanted to ask him what was going on. Oh, how he wanted to. But how? Barbara had not traveled with them. His intention was to be alone with the singer, to have that moment to make up for all the time they had no contact. Winnie did not speak English. Freddie did not speak German. They simply could not communicate properly. They just did not talk.

Winnie tried to please him in every way. He cooked for him, bought an expensive wine for them to drink. And although Freddie thanked him, giving him sweet smiles, the singer seemed to be lost in thoughts.

Freddie was just not there with him.

Now they were back in Munich. They just got to the cook’s home. Winnie tried to offer him something to have breakfast. He was sure Freddie did not understand, because the frontman gave him a confused look.

How do you say _Frühstück_ in English?

Freddie also told him something, to which he just nodded, as if he understood. But he did not understand. After a moment, the singer pointed to the phone and Winnie got  that he would make a call.

He nodded, and Freddie began dialing some numbers.

Winnie sighed in defeat.

That did not go as planned. What would he do now? How would he have Freddie back?

What the hell was _happening?_

 

.

 

Jim was sitting on an armchair at Freddie's apartment with a magazine on his hands. Though his eyes were fixed on the letters in front of him, his mind was simply not processing the information he was reading. His mind was occupied by other things, that no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about.

Once more Freddie had paid him a first class ticket for him to go to Munich. Again he did not show up at the airport to greet him, but he was in the apartment when Jim got there. Freddie seemed agitated; he gave Jim a strange hug, and informed him that he would take a short trip. To the _Hills of Bavaria_. With Winnie.

It was as if a bucket of cold water had fallen on Jim's head. Freddie went away and left him there; and he did not come home all night. Jim tried not to bother too much about it. Maybe ... maybe Winnie and he needed to talk about the end of their relationship. Jim tried, he really tried not to feel bothered by that situation. But he could not deny it.

He knew he could not ask Freddie anything. What did they have after all? That was not a relationship, was it? He already knew about Winnie. He was already aware that the singer had a _supposed_ boyfriend.

But he just could not… he tried, but he could not handle the fact that Freddie was with the other man. Why the hell had Freddie bought him that ticket, then? Why he had not left Jim in London?

But it was not as if Freddie was the only one to blame. Jim agreed to go _there_ after all. Freddie asked him the past weekend they were together in England. He asked and Jim said _yes_ , without a second thought. Even though he was aware of everything.

Maybe he was right, after all. It was getting harder to say _no_ to the singer. It was getting harder and harder to keep distance. It was getting rather impossible not to be around him; not to think about him; not to want him for _himself_.

What the hell was _happening_?

The phone rang, and he closed the magazine at once, putting it aside. He made mention to get up, but Joe appeared from the kitchen, giving him a smile and telling him not to worry that he would get it.

The American just heard the other person speak for a few seconds and answered an _okay_.

He hung up the phone and turned to Jim; a slightly hesitant expression was on his face, as if he did not want to say what he was going to say:

_“Freddie wants us to meet him at Winnie’s flat”_

Jim took a deep breath and stood up. Joe looked surprised to see him walking to the front door.

_"Let’s go”_

 

.

 

Freddie was watching Jim’s back while he was walking quickly in front of him. He knew the Irishman was upset. He already knew the hairdresser well enough to know that he did not feel comfortable to show affection in public. But Freddie could not help himself. Not anymore.

He felt an immense desire to have _him_ at that moment. To feel those arms wrapped around his body, to kiss his face, to be close to him. He _needed_ to do that. Even if it was in the middle of the street, after leaving Winnie's apartment, while they were coming out of a pet store, where anyone passing by could see them. _Yes_ , he threw himself into Jim's arms and he was sure that he would fall to the ground, if Jim had not had caught him.

Freddie kissed Jim’s cheeks, his arms wrapped around his neck, and he lost himself in the midst of sensations that that closeness made him feel, forgetting where he was, not caring about anyone around him, not even Joe, who had stopped in front of the Pet store, completely gaped and holding the purchases they had made for Oscar and Tiffany.

Jim did not react for a few moments, completely surprised. His face turned red and soon he released Freddie. But the singer did not give up, trying for a few second to hug the hairdresser again, and only stopped when Jim turned around and started walking down the street, which Freddie could tell, to the flat.

Freddie then glanced at Joe, who nodded, understanding what his friend meant and saying he would go to the supermarket to buy what he needed to cook lunch.

Now there he was, seeing Jim reaching the apartment door. Freddie's stomach was spinning in anticipation; his heart was beating so hard he felt like it was coming out his chest; his head almost hurt from scrambled thoughts. But in the midst of it all, one thing he knew clearly:

He needed _Jim_. He wanted _Jim_. And he could not wait _any longer_. It had to be _now_.

Freddie reached the door, Jim seemed restless at his side, avoiding looking at him, his face still flushed. Freddie fumbled with the keys for a few seconds, letting out a swear; his hands were sweating. When Jim made mention of help, the singer managed to open the door.

They went straight to the bedroom.

Jim came in first, turning to Freddie as if he was about to say something. But what? God! What could he say? His head was a mess! In a moment, Freddie would leave him alone to travel with another man; then he would grab him in the middle of the street, would kiss and hug him as if his life depended on it. He could not understand. And he needed to understand. He needed to understand what Freddie wanted from him. Because if there was one thing Jim did not understand, it was _Freddie Mercury_.

But Jim did not have time to say anything. As soon as Freddie closed the bedroom door, he pushed the hairdresser hard into one of the walls and sealed their mouths abruptly in a desperate kiss.

Oh, Jim! He would not know that even _Freddie Mercury_ could not understand _Freddie Mercury_ at that moment. Freddie just wanted to feel Jim. He just needed to feel Jim. He just wanted Jim's body close to him, Jim's mouth over his own; the smell of Jim, the taste of Jim.

Freddie kissed him rapturously, furiously, madly. The singer's thin fingers roamed the Irishman's body, squeezing vigorously the hairdresser’s arms… waist… buttocks. Freddie’s confused mind had only one thought that seemed coherent. In the midst of a tempestuous sea of emotions, only one thing appeared clear to him as a distant but bright lighthouse between high waves ...

He wanted _Jim_.

He wanted Jim for _himself_.

He wanted _Jim_ to be _his_.

_ Mine._

The vocalist could not hold it anymore. His hands went to the button-down shirt that Jim was wearing, and he pulled it hard, tearing it out of the other man’s body; blue buttons flying to every corner of the room.

 _“Freddie!”_ \- Jim scolded him. But Freddie did not care. _Ah, that accent_. It was that accent he needed to hear. He started leaving wet kisses on the Irish's hairy chest, his hands touching his skin, feeling the vibration of Jim’s exposed flesh. _Mine._

 _“Don’t’ worry”_ – he said between kisses, his voice sounded desperate – _“I can give you another one”_ \- He then climbed up to his neck sucking it, making sure to leave a red mark on the light skin. Jim moaned – _“I can give you how many you want”_

 _“I do not care about any of this”_ \- Jim replied, making Freddie look him in the eye.

 _“What do you want, then?” -_ Freddie whispered. His hands rising up to the Irishman’s face, his light brown eyes, that Jim liked so much, were staring at him with adoration, as if Freddie was facing a wonderful view – _“I can give anything to you. Tell me what you want, Jim”_

They stare at each other for a while. Their thoraxes so close, coming up and down in synchrony.

The one thing Jim wanted at the moment…

It was Freddie.

He wanted _Freddie_.

He wanted Freddie for _himself_.

He wanted _Freddie_ to be _his_.

 _Mine_.

In a swift movement, Jim shifted positions, Freddie's back pressed against the wall, and it was his turn to kiss the musician with fervor. Jim had given up. Yes, so easy and he cursed himself for it. At that moment, he was sure, that he could never say _no_ to Freddie Mercury. _ Mine._

Freddie held Jim's face in his hands, only letting go when the hairdresser pulled his T-shirt up and tossed it to the floor, the hands of the two men began to explore one another fiercely, squeezing each other’s skin tightly, leaving fingerprints where they passed by.

 _“What do you want, Freddie?” - _Jim returned the question, as he listened the singer moaning while this time, it was the Irishman's lips that kissed his neck.

 _"I want you”_ – Freddie groaned, without thinking twice; his hands wrapped around the other man's brown hair, bringing Jim’s head closer to his neck, as if he had not yet had enough contact. He pressed his whole body against the other one, trying to get even more of that feeling that made all his bones shake, when the hairdresser was that near to him – _“So much”_

 _“I want you too”_ – Jim answered against Freddie's skin, enjoying all that closeness. He could feel both hearts beating uncontrollably against his chest – _“So much”_

And that morning, they made love in a ferocious, abrupt, hungry way. Freddie and Jim tried to forget everything that was afflicting them, consuming them and leaving them completely lost in their thoughts. They tried not to think how much they were completely hopeless about what to do. They just did not want to think about that anymore.

But it was there. Everything was right there. Their anguish, their confusion, their fears, were present in every touch of lips, that kissed the other mouth with despair. It was there in every tight touch, every movement to bring the other body closer and closer.

A feeling of pure domination took over the two men. A feeling of possession, of taking what was supposed to be his. Freddie left bites on Jim's shoulders that would probably become purple marks between the freckles for days. Jim scratched Freddie's back, leaving a red line that ran from his buttocks to the singer's nape. Their hands hold each other's skin so tightly that there were red bruises everywhere, leaving spots on their muscles.

It was a mad feeling. An inexplicable and uncontrollable need to _mark_ what should be theirs.

What did _they_ want?

At that moment there was only one thing they wanted.

Freddie wanted Jim.

And Jim wanted Freddie.

It was simple, wasn’t it?

No, it was not.

But they tried not to think about it and pay attention to the _only_ thing that overhung in the chaos of feelings and sensations that screamed in their heads ...

_Mine._

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Frühstück_ \- it means _breakfast_ in german.


	8. Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! As an affectionate thanks to all the readers who follow the fic, especially those who commented and left Kudos, I am leaving this small gift: A quick update! :D
> 
> Unfortunately I will not be able to guarantee that the next chapter will be that fast, I'll do my best, I promise! But I hope you enjoy this chapter. I love writing this story, and I'm very happy to know you guys like it as well! Thank you very much!
> 
> Please, leave a comment, let me know what you think! I simply adore them! They make my day! They encourage me to keep on and on!
> 
> Heaps of love,
> 
> Cat.

It was Thursday evening. Jim had just gotten off work; he had gone straight from the saloon to the supermarket to do some shopping so he could be able to cook his dinner. The hairdresser still wore his suit, which was his uniform at the Savoy Hotel. He was walking through the vegetable shelves, picking onions and turnips, when he heard someone calling him by the name.

He turned to the voice, staring with some surprise a rather familiar face.

 _“John”_ \- he said, watching the stocky brunette man coming toward him.

John had not changed at all since they had broken up. They had met a couple of times since the end of their relationship as they bumped in some bar. But since Jim had met Freddie again in Heaven that night about four months before, he had not seen his ex-boyfriend.

John came close to him. They were exactly the same height, they even looked physically. Both of them were big men, with dark hair, small eyes and thick eyebrows. Even their names were alike, were not they? The biggest difference was that Jim had chocolate eyes and John had light green ones.

 _“It’s so nice to see you…”_ – John said with a big smile, a basket full of tomatoes, lettuce and some meat under his arm – _“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. Where have you been?”_

 _“Around”_ \- Jim shrugged. Preferring not to touch on the subject that the last past month he had been absent because he was in the company of a famous rockstar – _“How are you?”_

 _“I’m pretty good”_ \- the other brunette man replied, analyzing the Irishman and the clothes he was wearing. John recognized the suit – _“Still working in Savoy, han?”_

 _“Yes. How about you? Still at the store?”_ \- John used to work in a downtown clothing store.

 _“I am” –_ he answered. A strange silence fell on them. That kind of silence that hung when ex-lovers met by chance. Surprisingly, Jim was not too bothered by the situation. He had been madly in love with John months ago. The salesman was no doubt a very important person to him, they dated for more than two years and lived together for almost a year. But at that moment, looking at his ex-boyfriend face to face he hardly remembered all that crazy  _passion_ he had felt for him. He remembered the good moments they shared, the good laughs they exchanged, but in some way, he did not feel at all drawn to having the other man by his side – _“How is Mrs.Taverner doing?”_

 _“She is alright, I guess”_ – Jim smiled – _“Just like she had always been”_

 _“She always liked you. Much better than me. I believe that if I was the one to keep the rooms, she would have sent me away a month after you left” -_ John let out an odd laugh. He looked a bit insecure. Jim noticed that the salesman was a bit uncomfortable and the hairdresser asked if he should be feeling the same way. But the truth was ... he did not feel strange about John's presence at all. And he wondered what _that_ really meant – _“You look… good. I mean… you look a bit…”_ – John pointed at him awkwardly, his cheeks a little red. Was he blushing? After everything they'd been through? Jim knew John. Just as he himself, John was a reserved and timid guy, the kind of man who did not speak much – _“Different…”_

 _“Well” -_ Jim started not knowing very well what to say about that _– “I think I’m still the same…”_

 _“Have you met someone?”_ \- That question was a little abrupt and unexpected for Jim. It was Jim’s turn to flush a bit. And John also knew the Irishman well enough to know that he would not answer him so directly, so he offered him a small smile, watching the barber look away from his gaze and play awkwardly with some purple potatoes – _“Do I know him?”_

 _“Maybe”_ – Jim replied a little unsure. In fact, Jim was aware that John knew Freddie. The barber remembered very well that on the first night he had met the singer - and that he had rejected him - he and John were still dating and the salesman was quite shocked that Jim did not know who the vocalist was and, at the same time, he was delighted to see that a celebrity – no less than Freddie _Fucking_ Mercury! -  fancied his man. But Jim did not feel comfortable telling John that he was having an _affair_ with that _same_ guy he had driven away that night, who, by chance, was one of the most influential musicians on the planet, so Jim had finally realized with time – _“I think you do, actually” -_ he finally answered clumsily, still avoiding the other man's light eyes.

 _“Oh! Who is he?”_ \- John's question sounded more _urgent_ than he wanted. That surprised Jim a lot, even because they had broken up, since John claimed Jim was too possessive. However, the salesman could not help but feel curious to know who his ex-lover was going out with. He still felt a great affection for Jim. Even though it was John the one who had ended their relationship, he sometimes found himself wondering if he had made the wrong choice. Jim was good to him; he was really good. They were fighting a lot lately; that was true; but at that moment, seeing the Irishman in front of him, looking even more jovial and handsome than he remembered, he could not help but wonder how they would be in the present if they had not been separated.

Jim took a deep breath, thinking about how he would answer that question; he still did not feel like talking to others about Freddie yet. After the last weekend in Munich, he had convinced himself he would take his _relationship_ with Freddie slowly. As much as he knew it was a kind of complicated _relationship_ \- being _who_ he was and _how_ he was, and Freddie being _who_ he was and _how_ he was - he had come to the conclusion that he simply did not want to end what he and the singer were having... whatever _that_ was.

He wanted to be able to simply turn his back and return to his normal life, when there was no trace of _Freddie Mercury_ in his boring routine of ordinary citizen. But Jim was fully aware that he could not do _it_ anymore.

He liked Freddie. _Yes_ , he really  _liked_ Freddie. And he could not stay away from him.

Jim liked the hugs that those slender arms gave him, he liked how those watchful eyes looked at him, he liked how the texture of his skin, a few shades darker than his own, felt against his hands. Jim enjoyed the conversations during the afternoon tea and the little chat at dawn after sex, when their bodies were still sweaty and intertwined with the other one’s. Jim was not an adolescent to not to realize that the reason he felt absolutely _nothing_ , other than a brotherly affection for seeing John at that very moment, was because he was already starting to really _like_ Freddie...

Maybe more than he should.

And he did not want to get away from _that_. At least not yet. Jim preferred to wait and see how it would go. He could get hurt, perhaps… or maybe that was the right moment to move away before he became even more involved. But for the first time in his life, Jim felt it was time to follow his instincts and take chances. He, a quiet normal-life guy. In fact, it really was so unlike him to make those kind of decisions, but something was telling him that it was time to take an opportunity. To just let it be.

He did not have any idea of where all that might end, but one thing he could say… Somehow, he knew that Freddie liked him too. And Jim was not going _mad_. He felt in every touch, every kiss, every look the singer threw at him ... If Freddie wanted, he could already have gotten _rid_ of him. But Freddie did not do that. They continued to talk all that week, as if the last episode in Munich had not happened. They continued to match and arrange the upcoming dates, as they could just not wait for that to happen.

Jim could not be wrong. There was definitely something… something he still could not explain, deep and intense like a hurricane, but sweet and serene as watching the most beautiful rainbow, between him and _Freddie Mercury_ , was not there?

But what the hell was that?

Well, he still did not know, but he would find out. And that was exactly why he still could not talk to anyone about any of this. Not even with John. As much as he trusted and cared about the man in front of him.

 _“It’s too new, John”_ – Jim replied hesitant, but finally turning to stare the other one, an expression of apology on his face – _“I do not know if it's serious yet...”_ \- the hairdresser gave a vacillating smile before finishing - _“And I don’t feel that comfortable to talk to my ex about who I’m going out with”_

 _“I’m sorry, Jim” –_ John replied feeling totally embarrassed – _“I did not mean to be rude”_

 _“Don’t worry. You were not rude and I'm not upset at all” –_ Jim gave him a sincere grin – “ _It's just that… it's not time yet. You will know him ... at the right time” -_ Jim then took some red peppers and fresh herbs and handed them to John _– “Come on, pick these, I bet your food is still bland. Maybe they will help you ...”_

John laughed, accepting the flavorings and putting them in his basket, remembering how Jim had the power to soften any situation. It always pleased him. John missed that.

 _“You remain so sweet”_ – John joked, then he looked directly into the other's eyes, seeing _something_ _unusual_ inside that brown color that was still so familiar to him. It was new and refreshing. _Something_ that, during all the time they spent together, John had _never_ seen in Jim; _something_ that made John sure, at that very moment in the middle of a supermarket, that he would _never_ be the person who would provide _that_ to Jim. John was not the right person, and he was sure now, that breaking up with the Irishman was not wrong at all – _“I really hope it works out, Jim. I really do. You deserve it”_

They exchanged smiles. Sincere and reciprocal. Smiles of two people who knew each other very well and wished the best for one another.

_“And so do you, John”_

.

 

If there was a paradise, that place was definitely a little piece of it. Jim had grown up in a traditional Catholic family. He had heard since childhood that somewhere there was a wonderful place, up in the Heavens, destined for good people. When he was younger, he always tried to imagine what it would be like. When he was about five years old, he used to hope that _paradise_ would be made of chocolate. Grass that tasted like chewing gum, trees that gave lollipop fruits. A river of the Raspberry jam his mother used to cook with the fruits from their backyard. When he was about ten years old, he used to wish that _paradise_ was a kind of circus, just like that circus that once a year visited his hometown, full of funny clowns, unbelievable contortionists, amazing acrobats, popcorn smell and hot dog with mustard.

But by the time Jim had grown up, and even though he was no longer so religious, sometimes, he still found himself wondering how _paradise_ would be. For him, nowadays, he wished _paradise_ to be a quiet place; where the scent of flowers prevailed, where the cool wind ruffled his hair, where the sound of the smallest animal could be heard ... where he could feel the utmost _peace_.

What Jim would never have expected was, that a piece of the paradise that he had always imagined, would be in _London_ city. And much less would he bet it would be _Freddie Mercury_ , the extravagant and unpredictable _Freddie Mercury_ , who would guide him and show him that little part of Heaven.

Freddie had already mentioned to him, sometime before, that he owned that place. The singer had bought it in the end of seventies from the Hoarse family. During all that time, Freddie spent all the time he needed to redecorate it as he pleased. And Jim musted say that he did a wonderful job. Garden Lodge was just amazing. The house was magnificent; each single room was comforting and welcoming, inviting to anyone who came in. It was evident all the effort Freddie had put into that house; all his good taste could be seemed and enjoyed on every wall, every piece of furniture, every detail.

But _that_ garden… _ah,_ the garden was Jim's favorite. It was a small English Garden, covered by purest green of the plants, vivid and at the same time peaceful. _Paradise_. That Sunday afternoon, along with Freddie's other guests, that included Mary Austin and her boyfriend Joe Bert and Freddie's friends, Trevor BB Clarke and Rudi Patterson, Freddie had given him a little taste of seeing the _paradise_.

All of them were dazzled, amazed. They took the opportunity of the perfect summer weather from that day to sit on the grass, talk and smoke some cigarettes. Trevor had taken a camera with him and registered that moment, taking several photos of the house and everyone that was present. It had been a gratifying, almost magical moment, where the deepest peace took of them all.

 _“So…”_ – Jim heard Freddie’s voice coming from behind Jim. The Irishman had moved a little away from the group to look around and observe some plants and flowers that were a little more distant. The hairdresser turned to Freddie’s direction, finding the singer with a big smile on his face, his large teeth showing under his moustache – _“What do you think?”_

 _“This is amazing, Freddie” -_ He answered with sincerity – _“This whole place… I don’t even have words to describe” –_ he confessed, letting out a small grin.

 _“I’m glad you like it, darling”_ \- Freddie seemed flattered, he came closer to the other man; they stood shoulder by shoulder, watching the small lake in front of them – _“In fact, I still have a lot to do, I have a lot of ideas in my mind, but I really love how it is getting quite how I expected”_

 _“What else do you have in mind, honey?” -_ Jim asked, trying to figure out what else to do in that place, that was already simply wonderful, even better.

 _“Fish, for example”_ \- the singer replied, pointing to the clear water, but without any swimming animal – _“I'd like to stand here watching as if I'm seeing an aquarium”_ \- he stated, his brown eyes fixed on the lake, as if he was predicting in his mind how it would look like – _“Do you understand me?”_

 _“Of course” –_ Jim replied, also looking in the same direction of the other man, his thoughts wandering for a moment _– “Koi fish” –_ he said suddenly, and Freddie turned to him with surprise.

_“Koi fish?”_

_“I think they might look good in there”_ – Jim explained, also turning to the musician, Freddie's attention fully focused on what the Irishman was saying – _“They are big and colorful. Very beautiful, I must say. There is this specie called Asagui… they are simply lovely! Their scales are blue and red…”_

 _“That would be just perfect!”_ \- Freddie turned once more to the lake, his expression was radiant as his brain projected colorful fish swimming in the water – _“How do you know all this?”_ – his eyes were in Jim again.

 _“Well, I read a lot about it”_ \- Jim shrugged, giggling lightly – _“I really enjoy gardening, you see…”_

 _“Yeah, I know”_ \- Freddie gave him a smile. Jim could not help noticing how much he loves when Freddie smiled like that. His brown eyes brightened, his fleshy lips framed beautifully his large teeth. Jim could not deny that he just adored Freddie's smile.

 _“I think I must talk a lot about it, don’t I?_ \- Jim felt his cheeks flush, obviously the singer noticed that, because his smile widened even more.

 _“Not at all”_ \- the singer responded, letting out a small laugh – _“I like to hear you. I like to hear you talking. Especially when it is about something you enjoy”_

Jim looked away, aware that he could not keep up with the other man's gaze. He also knew that Freddie was partly doing it on purpose. Freddie seemed to enjoy making Jim sheepish. The Irishman tried to change the subject for his own good:

 _“I like joinery too, you know_ ” – he started, his eyes traveling all around the garden – _“If I had had the opportunity when I was younger, I would have gone to college to study something of that kind”_

 _“What specifically?” -_ Freddie wanted to know, watching Jim seem to lose a little in his thoughts.

 _“I don’t know… landscaping, perhaps” –_ once more Jim shrugged shyly. Freddie sighed, feeling an overwhelming desire to comfort the Irishman. Jim had already told him that he had not finished high school because he had to help his parents with the home bills. Somehow Freddie felt a little bad about it. Although his family had faced some difficult situations - the forced immigration from Zanzibar to England, the difficulties of reestablishing themselves in a different country - the singer had always been well studied. He had gone to a great boarding school, he had the opportunity to do many sports and learn to play various musical instruments, he had gone to college and had a degree in Arts and Design, he had a successful career as a singer ... Freddie never had to give up of something like Jim did.

 _“I think you would be an excellent landscaper” –_ he said, making Jim stare at him again – _“I think you could be anything you want”_

Jim laughed.

 _“Aren’t you kind, babe?” -_ He said. Freddie also laughed.

 _“You’re a great hairdresser”_ \- he pointed out.

 _“I never cut your hair, how would you know?” -_ he remembered.

 _“I'm sure you are!” -_ Freddie turned his body to Jim’s direction, watching the other man doing the same. Ah, Jim. How could he be so adorable? That white polo shirt dressed him so perfectly; the singer had noticed that he kept his beard for that weekend and Freddie was almost certain the reason was because,  a couple of weeks before, he had told him that he had liked it so much. Jim was so attentive, so nice… he needed to tell him that. Freddie did not care with the confused thoughts that continued to torment him during those past days, at that instant, he just felt like telling Jim what he was thinking about at that very moment - _“You’re an amazing person. So kind, honest, well with life. Really, darling, I just…”_ \- Jim looked at him with a mixture of attention and surprise. _Ah, heavens!_ How he just liked looking at Jim. His chocolate-brown eyes, his thick eyebrows and eyelashes, his outlined mouth... _– “Your presence is comforting…  I like being around you” -_ Freddie’s body responded to all of that instantly, warming him from the tip of his toes to the last strand of hair... _Ah, Jim._ He was not paying much attention to what he was talking about; he simply allowed his senses to speak for himself _– “I feel… secure” -_ Freddie put a hand on Jim's face, caressing it tenderly, feeling the heat of the Irishman's red face on his palm.

 _“Freddie…” -_ he spoke quietly, reprimand him once more for the show of affection in public. The hairdresser looked at the other people in the garden, some meters away, realizing with relief that none of them were looking in that direction, engaged in a conversation about the beautiful Georgian style of the main house.

 _“Don’t worry, my dear”_ – Freddie assured, leading the other hand to Jim's face – _“Everyone here knows that we're together”_

 _Together_. Jim's brain screamed. And he felt all his muscles tremble. He cast another glance at the other group, seeing that they still did not give any importance to them at the moment, their attention was at the well-made roofs and the stone walls of the building.

Surprising Freddie and himself, Jim then pulled the frontman to behind the nearest tree, full of intense green leaves and smell of fresh dew. He sealed his lips with the slender man’s, delighting with the sigh of pleasure that Freddie let slip out, as soon he met the Irishman’s mouth.

The kiss took no more than a few seconds. But Jim tried, during that brief moment, to show to the musician how much his sweet words meant to him, to which Freddie corresponded with the same intensity; their tongues touching deliciously. That breeze of the beginning of the summer enveloped them, the scent of grass that had been just cut off and new flowers that were just blossoming invaded their nostrils mingled with the already familiar scent of each other. It was almost like a movie scene. A kiss exchanged in a hand-picked scenario by the best Hollywood director, where the passion could be seen by any viewer that would be watching it on a cine screen.

They parted, their foreheads pressed against one another and their eyes still closed to enjoy that wonderful sensation that invaded their hearts whenever they kissed.

 _“I feel like a twelve-year-old boy running away from the parents to make out” –_ Freddie confessed between giggling, stealing one small but linger peck from Jim's lips.

 _“Me too”_ \- the hairdresser also admitted, his fingers stroked the other man’s cheek – “ _It's a little weird, isn’t it?_

 _“Yes, it is”_ \- Freddie opened his eyes, having the sensation that Jim also opened his own at the same time. Brown into brown, they looked at each other _– “But isn’t that just great?”_

 _“It’s terrific!”_ – they laughed once more, and soon they heard Mary's voice calling their names, looking for them.

They let go, casting an amused look at each other, and stepped out from behind the tree, pretending innocence, as if nothing had happened. Jim looked around, watching every type of flower that was growing at that garden and wondering what he would do to make that _paradise_ even more beautiful. Some blue moon roses, some freesias… Maybe Freddie would let him take care of that garden someday ... He would do _that_ with pleasure.

 _“Are you planning living here someday?” -_ Jim asked as they walked side by side toward the group of friends.

 _“Maybe…”_ \- Freddie answered thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on the glass windows of the house in front of him.

 _“I think you’d have a great life here, Fred” -_ Jim told him with a frank smile on his face, that lovely dimple appearing gracefully on his right cheek.

Freddie's chest warmed without explanation. His mind began to be filled with thoughts of colorful fish ... and Jim's sweet kisses.

Freddie smiled before saying:

_“I think I might have too…”_

 

_._

 

 


	9. Leprechaun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my dears. I can not stop writing this. I simply got this "Your Kind of Lover" kind of mood.
> 
> Tell me what you think! Leave comments, please!

 

Freddie was in the Berbuda Triangle, in the center of Munich, in some ordinary new bar that had just opened. It was a weekday, and even though, the bar was crowded, full of people, mostly gay men, who took advantage of the free cocktails that were being served in that _opening_ night.

The singer took a large sip of his _Mojito_ as he tried to focus on what was being said at that table full of friends; everyone was almost drunk and had mostly two drinks in each hand. They laughed and talked, part in German, part in English, part in some invented language that was a mixture of the other two.

Freddie felt a hand touch his knee over his jeans, and he turned to face Winnie, who was sitting beside him, offering him a small smile. It was Winnie who had invited him to that opening night; the owner of the bar was an old friend of the cook. The frontman had accepted the invitation, and he went there with Winnie and Barbara, who was sitting on the other side of him, telling anyone who wanted to hear about some of her experiences on the set of her films.

He gave Winnie an odd smile in return, but rested one of his hands over the German's. Freddie felt the other man's fingers intertwine with his owns under the table and the bigger man’s smile widened under his dark moustache. Freddie swallowed. That felt... weird. He could not deny that he was enjoying Winnie's effort to keep him around. Something the German had rarely done. It seemed as if all his wondrous plan had worked, and Winnie was trying to get him back at any cost. Well, Freddie liked that in some way. It was what he wanted from the beginning; to make his boyfriend so jealous that he would fall at his feet. This was the reason behind his whole plan.

But there, at that moment, just as it had happened the last times they’ve been _together_ since they have made up, Freddie felt something was wrong.

Freddie had really been in love with Winnie. And he could tell for sure that it was a true feeling. In the beginning, he thought that all that passion he felt for the German would stand out against any linguistic or cultural barriers. He really believed that what he felt for the Bavarian could overcome any kind of difficulty. He was so blinded by love that he often relieved the other's _rude_ demeanor.

Not that Freddie himself was any kind of saint; he used to behave badly too. But that sort of thing seemed to be somehow _habitual_ to him. It was something Freddie did not like to admit, but it seemed he was accustomed to _rough_ relationships. In fact, all his life, Freddie felt like - as everyone expected and even himself - that he should have _storm_ relationships. Being who he was, it seemed like what _relationships_ was all about. It happened in almost all of his affairs. Tumultuous relations where Freddie _always_ had to prove himself hard; where everyone, he or any of his lovers, had to show who was in charge or something like that. And Freddie used to assume that this was the romance style that a rock star, like himself, was destined to have.

And that was not any different with Winnie.

Winnie and he always had great fights, where they would scream incomprehensible things to the other man’s understanding; but of course, they knew they were barbs and swearing. This could happen anywhere and at any time, it was something unforeseeable.

But they always, _always_ came back together. They argued and made up constantly. They used to be crazy about each other; they could not stay apart...

It had been with Winnie that Freddie had had the first experience of living with another man, as lovers. And that was something really new and different for the singer. Sharing his life with another man, even if it had been for a short period, had been a unique experience. It was probably the first time Freddie had lived in a house that was not his, but he could not deny that Winnie had done everything to make him comfortable at the time as he settled his life in Munich; the chef used to cook his favorite dish at least once a week and always made a point of checking if the singer was well.

And by that time, which by chance was not that long before, the singer had also tried to please Winnie as best he could; Freddie had given him expensive gifts, surprised him occasionally with roses in Winnie’s restaurant, making a point of demonstrating how much the German was dear to him.

And he was… Winnie _really_ was…

But, there was definitely something _different_ hanging between them now.

It was as if somehow the fairy tale had ended, and all that _passion_ seemed to have turned into distant memories in the musician’s mind. He could not remember that feeling of _wishing_ the German close to him as he had just been graving sometime before. Freddie could not remember what it was like to have that need to prove himself the whole time; he could not remember why he had to be always so competitive; he could not remember the reason he had to try so hard to get the attention he desired...

Actually, it had been a few weeks which Freddie kept himself wandering what a _real_ relationship would be. Of course, he considered _all_ his past relationships to be real. They all were real. He was not the type of guy that did not get involved, on the contrary, he was romantic, he liked all that environment, all that feeling that it was to have someone… But what was to really _have_ someone?

He could not help but think of his parents. Throughout the years that Jer and Bomi spent together, Freddie was sure that that was a _real_ relationship. Simple moments shared with affection; difficulties that were overcome side by side. Freddie also thought of Brian, John, and Roger. His bandmates were also rock stars, and just as he, enjoyed fame a lot early in their careers, it now seemed his friends were more engaged in thinking of children's birthday parties and honeymoons with their wives to renew their marriage vows.

Was that what a relationship was all about? Would this work in the _gay_ world as well? Would Freddie have to give up his parties and adventures to knit clothes for his cats at home? Was he _prepared_ for this?

Freddie did not know. He really did not know. He had never really allowed himself to think of their relationships that way. This was the first time he caught himself wondering that much about it.

But one thing, something deep inside him, was telling him that maybe _that_ was exactly what he wanted. Something was saying, deep inside his mind, that all his life it was _that_ what he was looking for. Being in a kind of unpretentious relationship where he would not have to do crazy things to get attention or prove anything to anyone. Being in a relationship that he could simply be himself, without the _Freddie Mercury_ facade. Being in a relationship where the other one would simply _want_ him and _make_ him his own, only for what he was, not for what he represented. And like any _real_ relationship, he would no longer have to compete; he could simply stop the chaos; he would belong to someone else for _real_.

That scared him. _Very much._ Was that what he wanted? Belong to only one person? Did he, _Freddie Mercury_ , want to be with just one person for the rest of his life? God, it was not what he was accustomed to. Could he do that?

Freddie was very confused. Like he’s never been before. He found himself at a crossroads where he did not know what he really wanted for his life. What was right for him? What would work for someone like him?

But one thing he could say, he really was tired of those kind of relationships he put up with. He was exhausted. Internally, he wished that he might someday have a relationship like that of his parents or his friends. In fact, he did not think he would bother planning honeymoons or knitting clothes for cats or…

_Talking about gardening or joinery._

Wait. What? _That again?_ Freddie had loosened from the German's hand, feeling his stomach twist as he stifled the urge to be wishing _another_ hand on his own. He tried to disguise himself by taking another sip of his drink. But the cook seemed to notice his disturbance.

 _“ Alles gut?”_ \- he heard Winnie ask with a slightly concerned expression.

Freddie tried to give him a big smile, wishing he had succeeded.

 _“Alles gut, darling_ ” - he replied with the little he knew and understood that language.

Winnie nodded, looking convinced, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Their friends at the table kept talking a bit longer. Gradually the people from the bar began to dissipate and leave. Winnie leaned toward Barbara, and said something that Freddie could not understand this time.

 _“Winnie wants you to come with him to his flat”_ \- she said shortly after, a smile on her well painted red lips.

Freddie sighed, his stomach twisting inside him. The confusion in his mind made his head hurt. He turned to Winnie, preferring to speak directly to him.

_“I'm sorry, dear. But I can’t today. I'm exhausted. I've been working hard during this week with this new video clip, you see… Next time, okay?”_

Barbara translated to Winnie, and Freddie noticed that she looked a bit embarrassed to do so. At first, that was something that Freddie found interesting and even funny, having Barbara to translate everything for both of them. But now it was definitely the kind of thing that made the singer a bit angry. Would he always have to have the Austrian woman among them so he could talk to Winnie?

The German man's happy expression faded as he heard what his friend had said, Freddie had also noticed that.

 _“ Es tut mir leid”_ – the vocalist apologized once more– _“Next time”_

 _“Next time?” -_ Winnie looked a little annoyed. He spoke in a rather rude way, just like a spoiled brat. Freddie tried to ignore it. What could he do? Just go home with Winnie when his head seemed like it was about to explode in confusion?

He tried to smile to Winnie one more time.

Freddie needed to put his head in place.

 _“Next time”_ – he repeated once more. And even if he felt a little bad at saying what he was about to say, and even if he did not understand why, he ended up – “ _Ich verspreche das_ ”

 

.

 

 _“Jim seems to be a really nice guy”_ – Roger said standing next to Freddie at the bar counter. The singer had left the table to get another round of beer. And apparently the blond had followed him.

 _“And who did ask you anything?”_ \- Freddie joked, giving a cheeky smile to his friend.

 _“I don’t need to be asked, buddy” -_ the drummer said also playfully, leaning his back on the balcony wood, facing the group sitting in a table on the corner. Roger smiled as he heard Brian’s loud grin _– “I’m just stating a point…”_

Freddie laughed, before asking the waiter for more drinks.

That was a simple bar, in fact. They used to frequent it since they were only a band of shows for university events. At that time, they used to distribute their concert pamphlets to clients while they put their money together for a round of vodka dose. Those were good times. They were young, carefree, with no idea of what life held for them.

And life, _ah_ , life had been very cunning with them.

Now, _Queen_ was one of the most respected and beloved bands in the world.

Some would say they were living legends. Owners of a talent that was not equal. They were all extraordinary in what they did. Brian with his wonderful electric guitar. Roger with his incomparable drums. John with his amazing bass. Freddie with his unbelievable voice and piano skills. And they were all just great composers. They had that ability and sensitivity to write the most beautiful songs and, at the same time, the best _hits_ anyone could hear. Queen was a phenomenon. It was the kind of thing that did not happen all the time.

 _Queen_ was simply _Queen_.

But old habits never changed. They used to go to that _same_ corner bar after a meeting, rehearsal or recording of the band. It was like remembering the old days, where none of them could have imagined that a simple dentist, a timid engineer, a dreamer astrophysicist, and an extravagant designer, would become one of the greatest and best bands on the planet.

But that evening, after a meeting in London, Freddie had invited Jim to a _happy hour_ with _Queen_. Jim had come in shyly to the bar and Freddie had introduced him to the other three.

His friends and partners of _Queen_ have always been very polite and friendly with his _boyfriends_. Whenever Freddie introduced them to his _new man_ , Roger, Brian and John always seemed to try to treat them the best possible way, to bring some sort of subject to talk and try to make some kind of informal conversation. Freddie liked to see the effort of his friends every time a _lover_ of his was introduced to the band. But the vocalist could not help denying that it always seemed a bit forced to him. It never seemed natural to him. Freddie knew they did not do it on purpose, what they wanted was to please their dear frontman, but every time that situation happened, the singer realized that it was not spontaneous. Not at all.

However, apparently, it was not what was happening _this_ time.

Freddie got the impression that _Queen_ and Jim had known each other for a long, long time. It seemed that they had already made many barbecues together, drunk all sorts of beers in various bars in town and talked about countless imaginative themes. To Freddie’s point of view, it seemed as if they were going to each other's house every weekend, shared the Sunday lunch in front of a television, watching an ordinary soccer game that they had no idea who was playing against who.

That was so strange, but at the same time, filled Freddie with happiness.

Who would have thought that _John_ , the quiet-antisocial _John Deacon_ , would be laughing and spitting his beer around unintentionally, because of some joke Jim had spoken of? Or that the serious and analyst _Brian May_ would be asking Jim about possible haircuts for curly strands? Or that the dramatic _Roger Taylor_ was prone to plant orchids at his backyard, just because Jim had commented that it would make his house even more colorful?

That was something completely unexpected. But it was really good. Freddie felt just great about it. Jim was a quiet man; the kind that preferred to be in silence and waiting until someone asked for his opinion. Freddie was impressed by how much Jim and his friends simply got along. Of course the beers, that the Irishman had already drank, were helping him a lot. Freddie knew that Jim just needed a little push to put his shyness aside and start talking on and on. But what was happening at that bar was not just the beers’ effect, Freddie knew that. That seemed more like empathy at the first sight. And that made Freddie very, _very_ , satisfied.

 _“Where did you find him?”_ – Roger took him out of his daydreams.

 _“Inside a pot of gold, at the end of a rainbow”_ \- Freddie joked once again, making his friend laugh hard.

_“I bet you did. But I have to say that he seems too tall for a Leprechaun!”_

Freddie guffawed. Roger helped him get the beers the waiter had just served. They had asked for  _Guinness_ for that round.

 _“But you’re right, darling” –_ the singer said as they walked toward their table, but before they could reach it and with his brown eyes shining - so Roger could realize - he completed _– “ He is just great”_

 

.

 

They broke the kiss slowly, opening their eyes to meet the other’s ones. They remained as they were for a few time, enjoying the feeling of their bodies still jointed. After a moment they fell side by side on the bed, but Freddie did not allow himself to stay so far, so he hugged the other's chest, resting his head on the freckled shoulder; their bodies still sweaty and their breaths exalted. Jim kissed his head, wrapping his arms around the slender body; their hairy legs entwined warmly.

They stayed in silence for a moment. Jim’s hand caressed Freddie’s back, up and down, as the singer touched his thorax with his thin fingers.

It was very obvious how they both liked that moment after making love. It seemed even more intimate than the blazing movements they were making moments before. Not that their sex was not intimate; maybe it was even more than they'd expect from such a recent _affair_.  It was as if their bodies had known each other for a very long time. They already knew how to please the other one, they knew _what_ the other one liked and _how_ he liked, but there was always, _always_ , something new, that surprised them every time they spent the night together; or the afternoon; or the dawn. There was always something new. And they never got tired of finding out what it would be. They never got tired of _it_.

But the moments they shared after that, were very enjoyable too. Those moments made them almost sure that the instants of pleasure, they spent together in bed, were not something just so casual. Afterwards, they always hugged each other, cuddled, caressed and talked about anything that came to their minds.

 _“Where did you learn that?” –_ Freddie was the one who broke the silence.

“ _What?”_

Freddie turned his head up, his black hair completely disheveled, and smirked at the big man entwined in himself.

_“ That”_

Jim had understood _what_ Freddie was talking about. His cheeks, that were already flushed by the actions they were doing minutes ago, grew even redder.

 _“Oh, I don’t know”_ – he said with a small grin - _“I don’t think very much about what I'm doing while... you know. I just do it”_

 _“Aren’t you talented, darling?” -_ Freddie teased, griping even more his arm around Jim’s warm body.

 _“Oh, please…” -_ the Irishman rolled his eyes playfully.

 _“I meant it”_ – Freddie rested his head on Jim's shoulder again, his fingers wringing the other man’s flesh pleasantly – _“I just like so much being with you” -_ He stated on a sigh. The mixture of Jim's own nice smell with the scent of _sex_ , coming deliciously into his nostrils.

Jim rested his head on Freddie's, feeling the scent of the shampoo the singer used, from his messy dark hair.

_“I like it too”_

Jim knew that Freddie had had many partners in his past. Many more than he probably did. Not that Jim was some puritan and not that he cared much about that. Freddie was a celebrity, that must be something normal for famous people. In fact, Jim was pleased to hear that the singer liked it so much when they were together. It was good to know he satisfied _Freddie Mercury_ that way.

 _“What did you think about the boys?”_ \- Freddie asked, breaking the silence again, but this time, without looking at the hairdresser’s face. He was too interdicted circling Jim's pink nipple with his index finger.

 _“They seemed really nice”_ \-  Jim replied, feeling his all body shiver under the singer's touches – _“They all were really kind to me, I must say. I hope they liked me too…”_

 _“Oh, they did, my dear”_ \- Freddie smiled openly, even though Jim could not see his expression at the moment.

_“How do you know?”_

_“I never saw Deaky talking so much with someone who is a stranger to him”_ \- Freddie finally looked at Jim, allowing the Irishman to appreciate his grin – _“You’ve got him. You’ve got them all”_

Jim raised an eyebrow.

_“Is that a good thing?”_

_“That’s a great thing, Jim” -_ Freddie whispered, watching the Irishman's face. Jim gave him a sincere smile, seeming flattered to hear that. It made Freddie's heart soar. Maybe Roger was not right. Jim could be a _leprechaun,_ couldn’t he? A magical creature that could give happiness to anyone with its hidden treasures. From what Freddie remembered, when he’d heard those legends as a child, you should _never_ lose sight of a _leprechaun_ , otherwise it would disappear in the air. Well, Freddie was not going to let Jim disappear. Not even by any change.

 _“They know you’re gay, so…?” -_ Jim asked hesitantly after a while, where they just kept staring at each other.

 _“Of course they know”_ – the frontman laughed – _“We’ve been working and touring together for years…”_

 _“Sorry, It’s just that…”_ \- Jim started to say, a little embarrassed – _“I don’t have many straight friends” -_ he explained _– “I just think that is so nice that you have such a great friendship with them”_

_“Well, I came out after we were already a famous band. They could not kick me out anymore!”_

They both laughed. Their united bodies swung in synchrony.

_“I believe they would never have done it. You guys seemed so close”_

_“We are”_ \-  Freddie nodded and Jim could hear the joy in his voice with that confirmation – _“I think we are like a family, you know”_ – he grinned one more time – _“We are all so different. Brian is so intellectual and polite… Roger is a drama queen, John is shy and a little antisocial…”_

 _“And you are you” _– Jim put a hand on Freddie's face, caressing the warm skin of his cheek.

Freddie's body instantly responded to the affection; as if fireworks burned inside him.

_“And I am me”_

_“I’m glad you have them”_ \- Jim said, bending down to leave a peck on the singer's red lips.

 _“Me too”_ \- Freddie also put his hand on Jim's face. Moustache. This time Jim got his mustache again. Freddie could not tell if he liked it better when Jim had a mustache or a beard - _“You see, a big part of me, being unable to open up to the media, is because of them”_ \- he confessed, unable to tell where _that_ had come from – _“I'm not usually hiding my way of being or anything, but I don’t know if opening up publicly as a homosexual could do any good to my career… and theirs as well"_

_“What do you mean?_

Freddie shrugged. Well, that was something new. Once again he had begun to speak certain _things_ with Jim that he did not use to talk about. He could not explain why. But it was as if his heart was full of insecurities and secrets and he just felt the need to express himself a little about it. And incredibly, that _need_ happened every time he was with the Irishman.

_“There’ll be a lot of press, a lot of scandal. The newspapers don’t leave me alone already. I’d just like to be able to live my life”_

_Oh god,_ he said it. He really did.

Freddie averts his eyes for a moment, from the hairdresser’s gaze. He never talked much about it. He really did not. How did they come to that subject?

_“I understand”_

Freddie turned to Jim, looking surprised. Jim offered him a kind smile as if trying to comfort him. Oh, Roger was so wrong. Jim was definitely something that did not exist. Right?

Freddie felt a sudden urge to keep talking.

_“What really matters to me is that they love me and accept me the way I am”_

_“You do not have to explain yourself to anyone, Freddie”_ – Jim hugged Freddie's body tightly – _“What I think is… people, and by people I mean those bloody journalists and who else think they can judge anyone, should start caring more about the person you are_ ” - He spoke slowly, his voice calm and reassuring, making Freddie relax even more in his arms – _“You are a good, loving man, and this regardless whether you're gay or not. It does not matter”_

_Oh, Jim._

_“I'd like that everyone could think just like you do, Jim”_

Was that it? Was it what it was like to have a _real_ relationship? Was that way _his_ parents felt? Was that way his friends of _Queen_ felt about their wives? Was _that_ what his heart wanted most? Was that what his heart desperately pleaded for him to get? Was it what he wanted? What that the kind of relationship he was longing internally to have?

Freddie tensed. Again, confused thoughts filled his mind, disturbing him with uncertainty.

He disengaged himself from Jim's arms, sitting on the bed.

Jim sat down too, concerned.

_“Have I said something wrong?”_

_“No, you haven’t, dear”_ \- Freddie replied truthfully, but unable to shake off all those feelings, all the confusion that occupied in his head.

The singer got up, grabbing his robe from a nearby chair and dressed it.

It was _always_ like that, wasn’t it it? All his relationships. It all began with an overwhelming passion and soon the chaos settled again. He was destined to this kind of _shit_ , wasn’t he? That was his life. Why would it be any different with Jim?

_Because Jim is different._

A voice in his mind shouted at him. He was, wasn’t he? He was a _leprechaun;_ a sweet, gorgeous, amazing _leprechaun._ He would guide Freddie to the end of the rainbow and give him a pot, not full of gold, but filled with _everything_ his heart desired.

Really? Could _Freddie Mercury_ have that?

_“Freddie, is everything all right?”_

Freddie turned to Jim; he was still settled on the bed, the sheets covering his nakedness. His expression was a mixture of confusion and worry.

Oh, heavens. Was _it_ what Freddie wanted? Could he really have _it_? Could, this time, be for _real_?

 _“Yes, darling”_ –  he tried to smile to calm his lover down. His head was starting to ache once again; he could no longer see Jim's worried gaze on him. But what could he do? Freddie needed to put his head in place - _“I just want to have some tea…” -_ and going toward the bedroom’s door, he finished – _“I'll bring chamomile for us”_

 

_._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Alles gut?_ \- all good?
> 
>  _Es tut mir leid_ \- I'm sorry.
> 
>  _Ich verspreche das_ \- I promise.
> 
>  _Leprechaun_ \- is a type of fairy in Irish folklore. They are usually depicted as little bearded men, wearing a coat and hat, who partake in mischief.


	10. Care - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! I'm back! Sorry for the delay! I've been busy last week. But here I am, back, with one more chapter. You must be wondering, why _**Part 1**_ in the title? Well, as you have noticed, each chapter takes place in different days or weeks and with different themes. When I thought of the chapter Care, a lot of ideas came to my head, and I wanted to explore everything. It turned out that it would get too long. The second part is almost ready, but still needs some adjustments, so I decided to post _**Part 1**_ first and soon _**Part 2**_ will come out as well. Let me know what you think, okay? Kisses!

 

This was definitely something new and Jim was not quite sure what to do about it.

In fact, Jim did not understand what was really going on  at that moment. He was confused, really confused. He wished he had some kind of explanation for that situation, but he thought it was better not to ask anything at that time. He just watched Freddie pacing back and forth inside that trailer, gesticulating and rattling about improving security, about how exposed he was to danger or that something bad could happen to him.

Jim really did not understand. It was Freddie himself who had invited him to watch the recording of another video clip. Even though it was a weekday, Jim had accepted and gone to meet him after work. What he really did not see, was that reaction coming. Indeed, he had never seen that reaction from Freddie.

The singer looked nervous while stuttered things that did not make any sense to the barber. His face, that at the moment was made up for the recording, become red and beginning to be sweaty, damaging the makeup artists’ work.

Phoebe, who was also in the trailer, along with them tried to calm him. Offering him water, tea, juice ... anything to make him stop talking or marching in circles.

Jim did not really understand.

 _“Freddie”_ – Phoebe was saying – _“It’s just Jim. It’s Jim. Nothing happened. Please, just calm down”_

 _“Calm down?”_ – Freddie replied angrily – _“So anybody who pops in here looking for Freddie Mercury, will be allowed in by the security, just like that?”_

 _“Freddie, please”_ – Phoebe tried, but Freddie did not soothe. Jim began to understand a little. Was Freddie upset because the security guy told him where the vocalist was as soon he arrived at the _set_? Was that it?

Maybe he did not want to see Jim, was that it? Was he upset with Jim? But why? They had not fought, had they? And if that was the matter, why did he not just send Jim away?

Well, maybe it was nothing like that at all. What the hell was going on?

Jim nocited that Freddie's behavior seemed to worsen. Now, it seemed that it was hard for the singer to breath. He breathed hard through his mouth, and made loud noises as he let the air out of his lungs. Jim saw every muscles of Freddie tightening, his face, once red, gradually lost color, growing paler and paler, and his body began to tremble, without any explanation; it was a hot summer day in London, it was not cold at all.

That worried Jim. He had never seen Freddie like that. He knew, and knew with certainty, that Freddie was not well.

 _“What's wrong with him, Peter?” -_ he asked with some urgency, pure concern in his voice.

 _“Oh, god… I think he is starting to have a panic attack”_ \- Phoebe explained, also starting to get a bit agitated, watching the frontman to stop walking and put his hands on his face as he tried to control his breathing, completely oblivious about the other two; it looked like he forgot that Jim and Phoebe were there – _“It happens sometimes_ ” - Phoebe looked at Jim with an insecure look on his light eyes – _“I will get Joe… he knows how to deal with this”_ – and he hurried out, closing the trailer door behind him.

Jim watched Freddie for a few seconds. His _lover_ was still with his hands on his made up face; his whole body shaked as he just stood in the middle of the floor of that wagon. _God,_ he did not want to see Freddie like that. He could not see Freddie like that. Jim did not understand at all what was happening. He had no idea why the singer was about to have a fit of nerves... He really did not understand… But one thing he knew for sure…

Jim could not let Freddie stay that way. He just could not bear seeing Freddie like that.

Then he did the only thing that came to mind. He did the only thing his senses, his instinct, told him to do; he threw his arms around the singer and hugged him tightly, bringing the slender body close to his own.

 _“It’s okay, honey. Everything is fine”_ _-_ Jim started, speaking softly into Freddie's ear, who kept his hands covering his face -  _“It’s just me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be like this, everything will be solved” -_ Freddie had no reaction. But Jim noticed that his body seemed to have stopped shaking a little. Jim stayed silent for a while. He took his hand to Freddie head and started to caress his well combed hair – _“It's all right. I'm here with you now, okay?”_ -  he said after some time, feeling the singer's body relax into his arms, every tensed muscle seemed to loose Jim began to caress his back, making circular movements above Freddie’s costume  - _“Please, calm down. Don’t be like this. I will take care of you, Freddie”_ \- Jim then squeezed him, even more into his own arms, trying to give him all that heat, all that feeling, to the other man.

Jim felt Freddie finally give in. The singer threw his arms around the Irishman's neck and pulled him close to him, taking a deep breath; one, two, three times ... feeling the masculine scent the hairdresser emanated. Jim relaxed too, he had not even realized that he'd been tense with all that as well. _Oh boy,_ he was so worried. But now Freddie seemed to be calming down slowly as he squeezed his own body close to the other one. Jim kept stroking his back, his arms, his hair...

They stayed that way for a while, until Freddie had totally came to normal state. And even after that, they continued to hold each other, feeling that wonderful energy, that inexplicable sense of pleasure of being in each other's arms.

Jim was simply happy. Freddie looked fine. Jim, somehow, managed to calm Freddie down about whatever it was that happened. _Thanks, God!_ He just could not see Freddie that way he was before.

The trailer’s door opened abruptly, and Phoebe and Joe entered in exasperation, their faces carrying worried expressions. Jim and Freddie turned to them, however, without letting go of each other.

 _“Freddie, what is happening? Are you alright?”_ \- Joe asked worriedly, entering the compartment, prepared to help his friend.

But surprisingly, Freddie smiled. He smiled relaxedly. He turned to Jim; his eyes overflowing tenderness; he did not even look like the same man who was screaming and shaking at the edge of a panic attack. Freddie looked inside Jim's brown eyes. The hairdresser felt his whole body warm up with it.

 _“I’m just fine, darling”_ \- Freddie spoke and his smile widened – _“I'm better than ever”_

_._

 

Freddie leaned over to test the temperature of the water in the tub. It was warm and the citrus scent and the huge bubbles of soap made it immensely pleasant. The sun had already risen, it was a little more than seven o'clock in the morning. He had not slept that night. The recording of the video clip for his song _Made in Heaven_ had lasted the whole night. He had come home at five in the morning. And Jim had gone home with him.

He had explained everything to Jim. The reason he almost had a fit of nerves. A delinquent had invaded his apartment a few months before and dressed all his clothes. Crazy. The criminal had been arrested, but that very morning, of the video recording, he had fled the prison. And he was looking for Freddie Mercury. A madman, no doubt.

After what had happened to _Lennon_ , all the great artists had to be very careful. Unfortunately, it had to be that way. Freddie was very zealous about his own safety. And having a mad criminal somewhere wishing to find him… that would rub _anyone_ the wrong way.

Jim was really understanding. That surprised and pleased Freddie. A lot. He knew he had not treated the Irishman well when he arrived in the studio that evening. And more, the singer was sure that he had probably frightened Jim with the state he was, after the hairdresser had arrived.

But Jim had been extremely understanding and careful. That moved Freddie. Yes, Jim, every day, gratified him more and more.

Jim took _care_ of him.

Freddie had already had numerous anxiety attacks… several panic attacks. It was not just _anyone_ who could calm him down and bring him back to reality. Joe was one of the few who could do that. To get Freddie back to normal. But Jim, that night, in a matter of minutes, had been able to bring him back. Just simple as that. Embracing him and speaking sweet words into his ear, simple words, but with uncontrollable strength and power; at least for the singer's point of view. They softened him in a way that no one, no one, could ever do. Freddie felt himself completely protected in the strong arms that surrounded him tight, and he simply let himself forget that feeling of anguish and terror that began to consume him. Freddie went back to normal. Jim had been able to bring him back, just like that.  
  
_Oh, Jim._ Jim was incredible.

Freddie left the bathroom, leaving the hot tub waiting, and headed to the bedroom. Jim slept heavily on his bed, lying with his belly up.

It had been an exhausting day, even after that little incident. Freddie had recorded until dawn, and even when they got home, cops were waiting to make sure the artist was okay. The criminal had already been captured and was back in his cell. But the police made a point of supporting the beloved singer. Freddie had to do the honors along with Jim. When they finally left, the sun was almost rising and poor Jim had a whole day of work ahead. Freddie made him lie down to rest for an hour at least, promising to wake him up. The frontman was not sleepy, all that excitement of the events kept him awake. He made some tea for himself, turned on the TV, and stayed with his cats until it was time for him to wake his lover up.

Freddie sat on the edge of the bed near the Irishman and watched him for a moment, sleeping peacefully. Jim's mouth was half open and he was breathing heavily.

It was a very nice thing to watch him like that. It was a rare thing to happen; Jim was an early waker, usually when Freddie got out of bed, the Irishman was already up. The hairdresser's calm personality seemed to show even more in his sleep; somehow it seemed that he had become a few years younger. His eyebrows relaxed, his forehead, which had some expression marks, also softened. It was a good image to admire.

Freddie found himself wondering, in that moment, that _life_ was really something _unexpected_. Events simply arise and what, at first sight seemed to be nothing important - just one more fact, one story among so many others - becomes an unique and essential fact in your own history. Well, maybe Freddie had not realized that yet. But that night, that very night that he saw Jim for the first time, that night would change his life _forever_.

_-_

_When Freddie saw him for the first time, he was quite far from him, sitting on one  chair at Copacabana Bar. He was handsome; even at that distance, the singer could tell it, and he was definitely his type… manly, big, brunette. Perfect._

_“What is it?” - Paul, who happened to be with him and a few other friends that night, asked, as he watched Freddie smile maliciously before taking a sip of his vodka._

_“I just found my prey for the night, my dear” - Freddie replied, his eyes did not deviate from the man at the bar counter._

_Paul followed his gaze, finding who the vocalist was analyzing._

_“Hmmm… Juicy”_

_Freddie frowned at him._

_“Take your eyes off him. He is mine!” - He warned, taking another sip of his drink, setting it down on the table and getting up. He smoothed his hair, and his mustache, trying to look even more presentable and walked toward the mysterious man._

_“Let me buy you a drink” – Freddie said as he stood close enough, leaning slightly into the bar, a half-gallant smile on his fleshy lips._

_The man looked up, analyzing him for a few seconds. Oh God, Freddie was right; that man was gorgeous. He looked just like Burt Reynolds._

_“No, thank you. I’ve got one already” - That was the answer and it had the sound of some accent. Because of the loud music, Freddie could not recognize immediately where was it from. The stranger took a sip of his beer looking away from him._

_Wait. Did he say no? Did he not recognize him? Freddie decided to try again. Maybe the man had not looked right at him._

_“What a pretty little thing like you are doing tonight, darling?”_

_Freddie watched him roll his eyes._

_“Fuck off!” – he said, turning to the singer again. Irish. He was Irish – “You’d better ask my boyfriend about that”_

_Freddie was surprised by that, and offended, of course. Soon he left, going back to where his friends were._

_“And…?” – Paul asked him, as he grabed his vodka again and drank it all on one large sip._

_“He told me to fuck off!”_

_“What?” – Paul was_ _indignant – “_ _Does he not know who you are?”_

_Freddie looked again at the Irishman, realizing that another guy came near him, hugged him and gave him a raunchy kiss on the neck._

_“I don’t know… I do not know what the fuck happened” - he replied feeling an inexplicable urge to get that Irishman out of those other arms, which were not his own. He was Freddie Mercury. Freddie Fucking Mercury. How the hell did he reject him? – “I’ll have him, Trixie. Write my words. He is going to be mine”_

_Later that night, Freddie and the stranger of the bar counter exchanged a quick glance. The man deviated his eyes soon, turning his attention to his boyfriend._ _Freddie smirked, feeling something growing inside him and heating his chest._

 _It was only a matter of time, Freddie knew it. That man would definitively be his!_  

 

 

 -

Freddie smiled as he remembered that night. He really did not get along with rejections. Since he was a child, when something was denied to him, it made him want it even more. And that was exclatly what had happened to Jim. At first, it was not just the fact that the Irishman had attracted him - of course, he had attracted him, and a lot - but most of all, the fact that he simply could not have Jim for himself, and yet, because Jim himself did not had fancied him, made he long him even more.

Jim did not even seem to notice who he was. Freddie was accustomed to have almost anyone he wanted. He would just snap his fingers and that was it - there would be men dropping at his feet to have at least one night with Freddie Mercury to tell. But that man, that Irishman, seemed to give a damm about who he was. Or rather, he hardly knew who he was. He rejected him and just like that. Oh, boy. No… he was _Freddie Mercury_ , he would have Jim. Of course he would have Jim.

-

_“So…?” – Freddie asked as soon Joe entered the car again, after ten minutes of waiting._

_“He's in there again” – the American replied. They had sttoped at the Market Tavern, as many times before, to check on Freddie’s mysterious man, that somehow, Joe had found out that used to drink at that bar._

_“Is he?”_

_“Yep, Melina” – Joe smirked – “And he is alone”_

_Freddie grinned and bit his bottom lip._

_“Let’s go” – he said, turning to the car window next to him, still with a smile on his face – “To Heaven” – he said to the taxi driver._

_“Wait” – Joe frowned – “Are you not going in? Talking to him?” – he looked confused - “You've been watching this guy for months!”_

_“Not tonight, Liza” – Freddie answered– “There’ll be a perfect time for that”_

_-_

Freddie thought he could plan it better. Maybe approaching the guy at that bar he frequented; or finding out more about him, what he liked to do and things like that. The musician loved those kind of games. _Hunting games_. But what he did not expect, was that _life_ would be even faster than him. And as always, in an unplanned and completely unexpected way, such moment simply appeard.

-

_“Let me buy you this” - Freddie said, before the man could give the money to the waiter to pay for the pit of larger he had ordered. The singer saw him turn to his direction and he tried to smile when he was analyzed for the second time by that guy’s brown eyes. Freddie was nervous, somehow. It had been unforessen to find his mysterious man at Heaven that night; he never went there. Actually, it was Joe who had seen him at first in front of the bar and said something like: Maybe now is the perfect time, Melina._

_Freddie was less confident this time, but he tried to stay steady. He was staring directly into the other man's eyes, who finally seemed to recognize him. But Freddie could not tell whether it was because of his public figure or because of that first night they met years before._

_“No, I’ll buy you one” – the man smirked at him, and Freddie relaxed, feeling relifef. Well, that was definitly the perfect time._

_“A large vodka tonic”_

_The waiter began to prepare his drink, to which Freddie took advantage to approach the Irishman closer. He was even more handsome than Freddie remembered, wearing those tight jean and white vest. So nice. The frontman leaned toward him and whispered into the other man's ear, laughing slightly._

_“How big is your dick?”_

_The man gave him another half smile, and Freddie was already waiting for the answer with expectation._

_“It’s none of your business” – Freddie's smile diminished. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe that was not the perfect night after all – “And for God’s sake, drop the phoney American accent”_

_“I haven’t got an American accent!”_

_Freddie definitely thought that everything was going wrong. Maybe he was never lucky with that man. But as he looked into the other's face again he realized the guy was grinning. Yes, a big smile; sincere and fun. He was joking! He was just joking to him. Freddie smiled back at him. Good!_

_The waiter handed the Vodka to the Irishman who paid it as promised. He then held out the drink to Freddie._

_“I’m Jim”_

_Freddie picked the glass and their fingers touched. It was as if an electric current had passed through all the singer’s body. And somehow, he knew that Jim - now he had a name - had felt the same._

_“Freddie”_

_-_

That night was great. They talked a lot and got to know each other a little; that's how Freddie found out how much good their could communicate. They danced on the dance floor for hours, drank together, laughed together. It had been a fun night.

The singer took one hand to Jim's face, lying on the bed, and stroked his cheek tenderly, very slowly, trying not to wake him yet. The skin was soft under his palm. Freddie's fingers traced Jim's face until it reached the hairdresser’s lips. Freddie touched them lightly with his fingertips and smiled once more, remembering the first time he had tasted them.

-

_"Oh God, is everything spinning or am I wrong?" – Freddie said, looking at the ceiling. He and Jim were lying on his bed. They did not even bother to take off the clothes they were wearing at the nightclub. They were too drunk for it._

_“It looks like I just got off a roller coaster” – Jim replied. He was next to Freddie in the same position as the singer. His hands moved over the blanket that covered the mattress – “Your bed is really soft” – he commented. Well, this was one of the effects that alcohol used to have on him. And Freddie would learn that with time. He was a quiet man, but when he drank too much, he simply kept talking on and on – “But it is not too much. It is very difficult to find beds like this nowadays. Either they are too soft and your back hurts like hell the next morning or you sleep on a ironing board. My bed, I was lucky too, I bought from a friend who...”_

_Jim never finished that sentence. Freddie suddenly grabbed his chin and turned his face to him, sealing their lips in a lingering peck ._

_“I’m sorry” – the singer said, as soon their mouths parted– “I just wanted to do that all night” - It was true; even though they flirted all the time, they were not alone in any moment. Neither in Heaven nor in Freddie's apartment after the nightclub._

_Jim put a hand on the singer's face and kissed him again. Freddie hugged him by the shoulder, bringing their bodies closer. The kiss tasted like alcohol and cigarettes, but it was not bad. Far from it. It was very, very good. Their first kiss._

_Their hands began to travel along each other's bodies over their clothes. Yet they both seemed clumsy in what they were doing. In fact, they were very drunk. The touches, though pleasurable, did not have the desired effect._

_“Shit” – Freddie said frustrated, his head was turning without stop, his stomach felt strange – “I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything”_

_“I'm afraid I cannot either” – Jim laughed. Freddie frowned._

_“Aren’t you mad?”_

_“Why should I be?” - Freddie watched him, trying to make his own eyes focus on Jim’s – “I just had a great night… I’m glad. It's not like we must do anything else today. Besides…” - he stroked Freddie's face and said a little timid – “I want to remember if it happens”_

_Freddie looked surprised. He felt his face flush. That was not common was it? He had taken Jim to his house, it was implied that they would spend that night together. It’d be just a shag. Something casual. It did not need sentimentality, or anything of the sort. But deep inside, there with Jim finally in his arms, he definitely did not want to  screw up what would be their night together. The way they were at the moment, it was unlikely they'd remember much of it the next morning. He had waited so long to have it, he could wait a little longer._

_“It'll happen" - He also spoke shyly, placing a last kiss on Jim’s swollen lips - "And I'd want to remember it too” - They cuddled, their arms entwined in each other. It even appeared  that the dizziness had reduced as they stayed that way - "Let's sleep then, darling"_

_-_

And he remembered. Just as he remembered almost every time they'd  been together. Yeah, Freddie could not deny it. That mysterious man at the bar who rejected him, the one he wanted for himself at any cost after that, that man he had planned to use to make his boyfriend jealous, was starting to become more and more important to him. And although it still frightened him, although he still had doubts and uncertainty about how far that unexpected relationship would go, one thing he knew for sure:

He did not want to move away from him. He wanted to be close to him, to be looked after by him and to care for him as well. He wanted _that_ reciprocity, _that_ new feeling of watching over what was his. He wanted to.

Until when? Until when would it last?

He did not bother, not at that moment, at least. He did not want to think about it.

At that moment, he just needed that good feeling of protection. Of care. He liked that feeling of care.

 _“Darling”_ – he said softly, stroking the Irishman's face again – _“My dear”_ \- he started to wake up. Jim took a deep breath, opening his eyes slowly, their eyes met and Freddie smiled at him – _“You’d better be getting off to work, darling”_ \- Jim grunted a bit like a small child. Freddie laughed, lovely. Yep, He really liked that feeling of _care_. He really wanted to take _care_ of Jim.– _“I’ve run the bath”_

 

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trixie \- Paul's nickname.
> 
> I always wanted to know Freddie's point of view about his first contacts with Jim.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the flashbacks!


	11. Care - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings! As promised, I'm posting Part 2 of **Care**.
> 
> Drama, comedy and romance... all in one chapter! hahahaha
> 
> Hope you like it! It was one of the chapters I liked writing the most. Please tell me what you think, leave me comments, I just love them! 
> 
> Love
> 
> Cat

It was raining. It was common at that time of year. The _Föhn_ , as they used to call that warm wind that rose the Bavarian Alps and turned into precipitation in the sky of Munich. The warmer the day was, the greater the probability to get a summer rain. And _it_ was very welcome; that particular year was very hot. The raindrops moistened the atmosphere, refreshing and improving the mood of the citizens of that capital.

Well, at least of most citizens.

Winnie was in his restaurant, which was closed at the moment. It was still early to open the doors; and although the rain softened the heat, it also kept some costumers at their homes and tourists often chose museum visits for that kind of weather.

At the moment, he was making some invoices for his business, sitting at one of the tables covered with papers and bills, a calculator helped him as he wrote down numbers on a paper. However he could not concentrate much on what he was doing, and time and again he had to start calculating again.

What got in the way? Probably the fact that he was extremely upset once more and also the informations that the blond woman, seated in front of him, was telling.

_“I tried calling him at home. Nobody answered. I believe he has not returned from London yet”_

_"He is always in London now”_ – Winnie mumbled, typing numbers on the calculator with a little more force than necessary.

 _“He's recording a video clip, Winnie”_ \- Barbara replied, seemingly tired of repeating things like that – _“And since when do you care that he travels?”_

Winnie finally stopped what she was doing, and stared at the woman with his intense black eyes.

_“You know exactly what’s in London, Barbara. And you know full well that it makes me mad”_

_“You guys always had that kind of relationship. You guys always had your little games to play with each other” - _Barbara sighed, sketching a smile. She restied one of her hands on her friend's, and spoke softly, trying to sound as convincing as possible, even if she had her own doubts on what she was about to say - _“What's in London is a distraction, my dear. It will soon be over. Soon he'll be sick of it”_

 _“Really? But when? Hun? When, Barbara?!” -_ Winnie snatched his hand away from hers, so that he could rub his hair a little nervously – _“Almost two months have passed. Two months! And by what it looks like, he's getting more and more involved with this guy!”- _he spat the words a little disgusted – _“It is taking too long! It's not like the other times!”_

 _“Maybe you should give him the_ _cold-shoulder_ _again” -_ the blonde suggested, trying to imagine what else could be done to improve that situation - “ _Perhaps you're giving him a lot of attention now and he does not feel like he has to chase after you and...”_

 _“Oh, no! Stop it!” -_ Winnie put his hands on his ears as if he did not want to hear what the other one was saying – “ _I did everything you suggested! I followed everything you said! And nothing has changed! In fact, everything got worse!”_

Barbara blinked her light eyes a few times in surprise.

 _“Are you saying this is my fault?_ _My fault? After everything I've done for you two?”_ \- Winnie took his hands off his ears and looked at her, trying to think of those questions, but before he could respond, the actress continued – _“Tell me, Winnie, how long have you and Freddie been together?”_

 _“Do not change the subject”_ – the German said, then quickly turned to the papers on the table; a pretext to no longer stare at the attentive eyes that were upon him _\-  “This is beside the point, Barbara!”_

 _“Tell me!” -_ Barbara said loudly, causing him to turn to her again. The expression was serious on the well-made face.

 _“I do not know ...”_ \- Winnie replied with a shrug – _“Two years?”_

 _“Two years! Two years, Winnie!”_ \- Barbara raged -   _“And all this time you made no effort to learn a little of his language! Without me you two do not talk!”_

 _“He speaks so little German too!”_ \- Winnie defended himself, his voice also beginning to rise _\- “And he lives here!”_

 _“Exactly!”_ \- The blonde opened her arms– _“You two do not even care that you could communicate better! Do you think I enjoy the simultaneous translation all the time?”_ \- she was getting angry. Anyone could see. Her face grew redder and she gestured furiously - _“And what about the little games you guys play? Why are you just complaining now, hun? You've always accepted his stupid jealous games, and even worse, you always played too. If you had put an end to it, maybe this situation would never have happened!”_ \- Winnie opened his mouth to speak, but nothing left from there – “ _And when you lived together? Did you try to stop him when he decided to leave? No! You just let him go”_ \- the man closed his mouth, clenching his teeth tightly as he stared at the woman without any good response to give, frowning as his face also beginning to show irritation _\- “What about his career? Have you at least been interested in accompanying him a few times? How many times has he invited you? Many times! He almost had to beg you to go with him to South Africa that time! Until he simply got tired, and never invited you again!”_ – the cook began to breathe heavily as she swallowed hard – _“Why did not you ever suggest going with him to London when he goes there to work? To keep him company…?_

 _“I am no dog to follow him wherever he goes!”_ \- Winnie screamed, letting all his frustration go out at once – _“I have my life! I have a restaurant! I can not just drop everything and follow the footsteps of a bloody rockstar!”_

 _“Freddie never wanted anyone to follow him! Quite the opposite, I'm sure, most of times, he prefers to be by himself”_ \- She pointed her index finger at him, even more angrier; if it were possible, sparks would be coming out of her body at that moment – _“But sometimes, at least sometimes, Winnie, you could have let that damn pride of yours aside and accompany him! You're his boyfriend! Or was...”_ \- she then laughed wryly, making him even furious – _“It's not my fault he found someone who does all these things!” _

_“Are you saying that I don’t care for him?” - _Winnie asked angrily, looking offended – _“After everything I've done for him in this two years? After all I did to get him back now?"_

_“Maybe you don’t care enough, Winnie!”_

_“You're saying that because you wanted him, aren’t you?”_ \- Winnie exploded, he could not tolerate anymore everything that was being thrown into his face – _“You wanted him! But it turns out you could never have him!”_

Barbara froze. Her finger lingered in the air for a moment as she stared at Winnie with an empty expression. After a while, she put both her hands on the table and took a deep breath.

Winnie seemed to regret right away; his ire expression softened and he tried to speak again, but the Austrian interrupted him:

 _“That’s right…and I accepted that”_ \- she said in a calm voice. She didn’t even looked like the same woman who was madly screaming seconds before - _“And I did everything for you to have him” -_ she gave him a tremolous smile – _“I helped you. If you did not want me around, you could have gotten rid of me! You both could! But you guys always kept me there. Always kept me around!”_ – she sniffed quietly – _“And I've always been there to help you both!”_

 _“Barbara…”_ \- Winnie tried to speak, tried somehow to apologize. But the blonde rose abruptly. Her expression changed again. She was steady, her chin held up, and her nose almost pointed to the ceiling.

 _“I am tired, Winnie”_ \- she pronounced resolutely _– “I'm tired of being between you two. Maybe I’ve messed up a few times and I know I have. But do not blame me on all this! If you want to blame somebody for this failed relationship, blame you and Freddie_ ” - she then grabbed her purse on the table and marched toward the restaurant door without even bothering with the rain falling outside – _“Auf Wiedersehen!”_

And off she went, leaving a guilty, confused, angry and sad Winnie behind.

Winnie brought his hands to his face and screamed again, this time to no one:

_ “Scheiße!” _

_._

 

 _“Oh, you poor thing!”_ – It was the first thing Freddie said when he opened the door of his apartment to Jim and analyzed the Irishman with a half-smile. He still wore his working suit, but the blazer was tossed on one of his shoulder and the black tie was loosened around his neck. His shoulders were shrunken and on his face a look of pure tiredness; purple rings appeared underneath his brown eyes – _“You look awful!”_

 _“Thank you, my dear. It’s always nice to hear a compliment” -_ Jim joked, as he laughed lightly. He felt dreadful, in fact. He could barely keep his eyes opened. He had just left work; he did not know how he had been able to work all day with only an hour's sleep. He was no longer so young to be able to stay up all night and just go to work when it was time. The fact was that, when you are over 35 years old, the reality of the consequences of aging began to surface. A few years ago, he managed pretty well to go to work after a good night of partying, but now, it was not something he really could do. 

Jim deeply wanted only to be able to rest. To go home, eat something and just rest. But he had promised Freddie, before leaving for the Savoy Hotel that morning, that he would pass at the singer's apartment after work. And well, as he already knew, he could not just deny Freddie something. And furthermore, throughout the previous day, they had not had a few minutes alone. He wanted to be able to stay with his _lover_ a little. That's why he crawled to the _Stafford Terrace_ that evening, ignoring any request of his body that begged for him to simply lay down and lounge.

Freddie laughed in response, allowing the other man to go in and depositing a crackled kiss on the hairdresser’s cheek as he passed through the door.

 _“Where is everyone?”_ – Jim asked as he deposited his jacket on the hanger near the wall, realizing that the apartment was silent, perhaps not quite totally because he could hear purrs coming from some of the cats.

 _“Liza and Phoebe went to Piccadilly…”_ – Freddie replied as they walked to the living room – _“To a happy hour or something like that”_ – he waved his hands as he was not acctually sure where the other two were.

_“Didn’t you want to go?”_

_“Not really” –_ Freddie sat on the end of one of the sofas; his back being propped up between the soft backrest and one of the welc quilted arms.  It did not take a second, and Dorothy appeared out of nowhere, jumping on his owner's lap. It might have frightened anyone, but both men were already well accustomed to the peculiar behavior of felines – _“I was waiting for you, darling”_

 _“Oh, Freddie…” -_ Jim sighed, facing the singer still standing – _“I'm sorry, but I don’t think I'll be able to go anywhere tonight”_

 _“Who said anything about going somewhere?”_ \- the vocalist raised an eyebrow to the man in front of him; his fingers paddling the cat’s fur.

Jim stopped for a few seconds to watch Freddie. The singer was dressed in a white and black tank top, yellow sweatpants and red socks on his feet. A little likely combination, people would say, but somehow Jim thought it suited him quite great. Even so, the hairdresser could easily recognize the way Freddie used to dress to go out, and it was not _that_. Those clothes were definitely wearings that he chose to stay at home.

_“Aren’t you going out?_

_“No” -_ Freddie shrugged. His hand still caressed behind the Dorothy’s pointed ear.

Jim sighed, shaking his head.

 _“If you want to go out, dear, it's no problem”_ – Jim started, sincere. He really did not mind that Freddie would go out to have fun with his friends; he would go with the singer in other circumstances, but he really was not feeling either the _will_ or the _ability_ to leave at that moment, his body was really craving for a bit of lull – _“I just came here because you asked me and because I wanted to see you. I'm going home anyway, we can see each other tomorrow before you leave to Germany”_

 _“I do not feel like going out today”_ – he replied – “ _It's not like if I have to go out every night anyway ... I will not die if I do not party tonight” – _he played _– “I like to be at home sometimes, you know” -_ Jim gave him a suspicious look behind his dark circles – _“Stop the bullshit, darling, and sit down”_ \- he said, in a way that made it clear that the subject was done. Jim obeyed, not wanting to protest again; he knew it was not easy to change Freddie's mind. He then dropped on the couch beside the singer and he sank into the soft upholstery, closing his eyes and letting out a groan of satisfaction. Freddie smiled sideways, taking Dorothy out of his lap and dropping her on the floor slowly – _“Here, my dear. Let me take care of you…” -_ Jim opened his eyes, turning to him. Freddie widened his smile and then gave two pats on his lap with both hands.

Jim frowned. What did he want?

_“Do you want me to…?”_

_“Put your feet on here”_ \- Freddie responded as if it was obvious – _“I think you need a massage…”_

Jim laughed a little uncertainly.

_“You don’t need to do that, Freddie”_

Freddie rolled his eyes playfully.

 _“Is it so difficult to let me take care of you?”_ – he grinned – _“Come on, darling. You barely slept. You worked all day. You must be so fucking tired…”_ \- Freddie then gave Jim _that_ look. He gave him that adorable look that he knew he could get anything from Jim and and patted his own lap once more – _“Let me take care of you, Jim”_

Jim gave in and in a slightly embarrassed way he straightened up on the couch to be able to put both feet on top of Freddie.

The singer took off his shoes and set them down. He also removed his socks slowly, finally letting his feet free. He then began to massage his left foot; to which Jim hummed with pleasure. Oh, that was really nice. He had been standing practically the whole day. His feet really ached. It felt so good to feel Freddie's fingers relaxing his toes that way. And amazingly he seemed to be very good at it. The hairdresser analyzed the singer as he seemed to work hard to do the best he could. Jim was flattered that he was trying so hard to make him feel better.

 _“How was your day?”_ \- Freddie broke the silence, giving him a small tug of lips. It made Jim's chest warm. That seemed so  intimate, and it was so good. To get back from a hard day of work and have his lover giving him attention and making him relax and get rid of tensions. It was so, so amazing. It was the kind of thing partners used to do, that couples used to do. Whenever one needed to relax after an exhausting day, the other would be there to look after, as Jim himself had done for Freddie. And he felt immensely happy that Freddie was doing it for him too at that moment. It was definitely a simple thing, but something simply wonderful.

 _“Endless”_ – they both laughed – _“Do you know when you are on a bad day and everything starts to go wrong?” –_ Jim took a deep breath before he started - _“One of the new employers cut too much the hair of a customer, and I had to solve the problem. But poor boy… It was not his fault. The guy kept stirring all the time in his chair, looking at any woman passing outside the saloon…”_

 _“And people still say that gays are indiscreet…” _– Freddie mocked, dragging his fingers to Jim's right foot.

 _“That's exactly what I thought”_ – Jim pointed out – _“Well, after that, I do not know how it happened, but one of the hair dyes we use to mix went wrong. Maria, my assistant, was who mixed it and she always do it just perfect…” –_ another sighed _– “When I finished to dye the hair of one of the oldest clients of the salon, I must add, and I took the product out of his gray hair, it turned purple!” -_ Freddie's eyes widened – “ _Purple, Fred!"_

Freddie laughed heartily, his laughter echoing in the living room.

_“You’ve got to be joking! This salon seemed just really fun!”_

Jim shook his head in discontent with the events.

 _“Nothing extraordinary ever happens at the salon” -_ the hairdresser assured – _“But today, of course, it had to happen. I had a purple-haired middle aged man in my chair!”_

 _“What happened with the guy?”_ \- Freddie wished to know, now massaging the ankles of the Irishman, a smile still playing on his face.

 _“Well, I managed to fix it, before he could acctually see it…” –_ Jim told him _– “It was a challenge to make him not look in the mirror ... But he left there with his usual black hair, at least…”_

 _“You are the super hero of the hairdressers, darling” –_ Jim guffaw. Only Freddie to say those kind of things and make him laugh like that, even in the chaotic state he was – _“You’re the hair-hero, defending London’s Hairstyles!”_ \- Jim laughed even more. His whole body ached as he did so, but he just could not stop. Oh, Freddie, he was just to amazing. Jim loved that side of him... That spontaneous and funny side of him.

_“The super hero of the hairdressers is exhausted of saving the day today! Today was a lot of work!”_

Freddie squeezed his feet one more time before giving him another grin.

_“Is the hair-hero hungry?”_

_“A little” -_ Jim shrugged – _“I’m sleepier than hungry”_

_“You should eat something. I think there's some leftovers from dinner in the fridge”_

_“I'm fine, Fred. I'm not that hungry to eat a dinner”_

_“What about a sandwich?”_ – Freddie offered him – _“I can make you one”_

Jim looked at him in surprise.

_“You will make me a sandwich?”_

Freddie finally stopped what he was doing and crossed his arms over his chest; Jim's feet still on his lap. He pretended to be offended.

_“Are you saying that I can not make a sandwich?”_

His voice was affected, and Jim knew he was acting.

_“I’m saying that I didn’t know you could cook”_

Freddie lifted his chin, as if defying the other man, but what he said, made Jim laugh again:

 _“I can’t”_ \- He then pointed a finger at Jim and stated – _“But I can make a sandwich”_ \- He then took the Irishman's feet out of his knees, and stood up, walking straight into the kitchen. Jim followed him, after gathering all his strength to get up, finding the singer washing his hands in the sink.

_“You don’t have to… I’m certain you can make a sandwich”_

_“Oh, no, darling. I’ll make you the best sandwich ever”_ – He assured, looking excited. He opened the refrigerator door, taking a good look at what was there – _“And you’ll eat everything!” -_ And before Jim could protest, he spoke again – _“Go to the bedroom and change these clothes. Put something more comfortable on. Choose whatever you want in the wardrobe. Help your self” –_ Jim was a little surprised. He had worn some of Freddie’s shirts once or twice before, but after the incident of the past night, the hairdresser thought the singer would be a bit upset of anything that had a deal with his clothes or wardrobe. Well, it seemed that Freddie had overcome any trace of annoyance about that subject; or maybe he just did not care if it was Jim who would rummage in his wardrobe this time. Whatever the reason was, it made Jim happy anyway.

But Jim did not move right away to Freddie’s room. He kept watching the frontman as he took several things from inside the refrigerator; Mayonnaise, pate, jam, vegetables, ham, tuna can... Jim wondered what kind of sandwich could possibly be made with that combination. The singer put everything in one arms, as he was grabbing more and more food. Jim thought he was going to knock all down, but Freddie managed to balance everything and still close the refrigerator with his hip.

“ _Fred_ …” – Jim tried to started, but was interrupted by a bossy look. Freddie raised an eyebrow at Jim, who was still standing in front of the kitchen door and commanded:

_“Go and let me do my job!”_

 

.

_“So…?”_ \- Freddie asked, his brown eyes full of expectation.

Jim swallowed the piece he bit, slowly. The taste of strawberry jelly and ham went down his throat.

_ Oh, God! _

_“Hmmm”_ – he managened to say, trying to give the frontman a smile. Freddie was watching Jim sitting across from him on the kitchen table; his eyes fixed on the Irishman while he ate the sandwich he’d prepared exclusively for him.

 _“Great!”_ \- He clapped his hands once; he was happy, Jim could tell – _“I knew you would love a hang sandwich” – _he joked, trying to imitate Jim’s Irish accent.

Jim tried not to make a face when he felt the taste of ... tuna?

 _“Just adore hang sandwich”_ – he said, swalling again. Man, was that chicken pate?

Jim breathed deep and took a big bite; maybe if he ate fast, then it would all be over soon. God, he could not tell Freddie, could he? Not when the singer was looking like a lively child who had done a good job. He looked so pleased, with his big brown eyes glittering at him, and his large teeth appearing in his cheerful smile. Jim would definitely not ruin that view.

Yeah, it looked like the _hair-hero_ had one last mission.

 _“It must be good”_ \- Freddie commented watching Jim bite another large piece. The Irishman froze, stoping in the action of  chewing the food – _“Gimme a bite, dear”_

 _“No!”_ \- Jim spoke with his mouth full, taking the sandwich out of the way, when the singer tried to take it from his hands.

Freddie’s eyes widened in perplexity.

_“What?!”_

_“It’s mine! You made it for me!”_

_“Don’t be such a baby!”_ – Freddie complained, shocked by Jim's reaction.  He tried to get the sandwich one more time and again the Irishman did not let him touch the bread – _“Give me this sandwich, Jim!”_

It was not as if Jim was much stronger than Freddie; although the singer was thin, he was very strong. On an ordinary day, Jim would have fought better for the sandwich, but he was very, very tired. That day Freddie won the fight easily.

The singer took a big bite. And Jim just confined himself to watch his reaction. The frontman, who wore a determined expression on his face while chewing the food willingly, began to slow down his actions, throwing the food back and forth inside his mouth. He looked at Jim with his eyesbrowns up, then at the huge sandwich in his hand, and then back at Jim again as he swallowed hard. Jim thought he was going to throw up at any minute.

 _“You liar! This is horrible!”_ – he screamed placing his free hand over his red mouth – _“How the hell are you eating this?”_

 _“It’s not that bad”_ \- Jim opposed, taking advantage of the situation and managing to get the sandwich back from Freddie's hands.

 _“It’s the end of the world!”_ \- he shouted, poiting to the food as if it was some kind of giant and desgasting bug – _“You must hate me right now!” -_ Then he leaned across the table and held out his hands toward the barber – “ _Come on, give this back to me! I’ll burn it!”_

Jim laughed.

_“No! I'll eat it!”_

_“No, you will not”_ – Freddie tried to get it back again.

 _“I will!”_ – Jim didn’t not let it happen, trying to push away the food from Freddie once more.

_“Give me that!”_

“ _Stop the bullshit, darling, and sit down!” -_ Jim imitated him, talking loudly, just the way Freddie used to do when he wanted to stop the subject. Freddie paused for a few seconds watching the hairdresser in front of him and then obeyed, sitting down once more on the chair and observing with horror, Jim taking another bite of the sandwich.

 

.

 

 _“I can’t believe you ate it all”_ \- Freddie confessed as he stroked Jim's brown hair. They were on the living room sofa again. This time it was the Irishman’s head that was leaning on the other man's lap – _“You didn’t have to, dear”_

 _“I did, you made it for me”_ \- Jim spoke, his voice was hoarse; the fatigue was already dominating him completely. His eyes were closed at the moment, as he just appreciated the caresses that Freddie was doing in his head. It was so good – _“And it was not that bad. In the end, it tasted like gorgonzola cheese… Delicious!”_

 _“Oh, God, you’ll go to heavens!”_ – Freddie laughed slightly. Jim was really special. Freddie knew he had eaten that awful food, just to not make him sad. Jim did not really exist.

 _“So do you”_ – Jim opened his eyes to face the other brown ones that stared at him from above – _“Thank you for taking care of me”_

_“You don’t need to thank me… You always look after me as well”_

Jim gave him a big lazy smile and Freddie could not resist but leaning over and kissing his mouth. It was a queer position, but they managed to _snog_ for a few seconds; their tongues touching in a quite weird way, but still very pleasant.

 _“These clothes suited you so well”_ – Freddie said, as soon as he went back to his position and paid more attention to what his lover was wearing. One of his larger shorts - probably one of the few that would fit him; Jim's waist and legs were larger than Freddie's - and a yellow shirt – _“You look good in yellow”_

 _“You too”_ – Jim replied. It was truth. They never spoke about it yet, but Jim was quite sure that yellow was Freddie’s favorite colour – _“This is one of the greatest things about dating men…”_

 _“…we can share clothes!”_ – Freddie completed exactly what Jim was about to say. They grinned again - _“Television?” –_ Jim nodded and Freddie turned the TV on by the remote. It was an old movie, it looked like it had just begun. The two watched the screen, still in the same position; the singer continued to slowly caress the hair of the Irishman with his thin fingers.

 _“I might sleep soon, dear”_ \- Jim spoke in a sluggish voice – _“Even faster with you stroking my head so good like that”_

Freddie chuckled.

 _“It’s alright. Just rest, darling. I’ll watch over you” -_ He then bent down once more, placing one kiss on the other's forehead _– “Rest, my Jim”_

 

.

 

When Phoebe and Joe arrived later that night they found the TV on, transmitting some old black and white film and Freddie and Jim lying on the couch, which although it was large, it was still not enough for two grown men. But the hairdresser and much less the singer seemed to not care about any of this; they slept heavily; Freddie was hugging Jim from behind, his arm placed on the other man's chest and Jim's hand held his there.  
  
The other two exchanged glances and smiled. Phoebe tiptoed to where they were, and turned off the TV while Joe turned the lights down. The two of them went into the bedrooms, leaving the two lovers in the same place, in the dream world.

 

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Auf Wiedersehen! \- Good bye!
> 
> Scheiße! \- Shit!
> 
> Hang sandwich \- Ham sandwich 
> 
> -
> 
> Well, about the conversation that Winnie and Barbara had in this chapter, I've read several things about their relationship with Freddie. I've read that after Freddie's death, Barbara used to say they were lovers and I read that a lot of people, including friends of Freddie, deny it. I wrote my interpretation of the facts. In my opinion, Barbara really liked Freddie and yes, she was always in the middle of his relationship with Winnie. But I also do not believe that it was her fault that their relationship did not work out; I think both Freddie and Winnie were responsible for that... If Barbara did not interfere could they have stayed together? We will never know, but I believe that Freddie found in Jim what he always wanted, as Freddie himself spoke in interviews, not in Winnie.
> 
> What do you think?


	12. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter. And Jim finally found out who Freddie Mercury was. I hope you enjoyed! Leave me comments, please, I love them!

 

 _“So are you coming to London again this weekend?”_ \- Jim spoke on the phone, a small smile on his lips from the information he had just heard.

 _“I am”_ -  Freddie answered on the other end of the line and guess what? He also had a cheerful grin on his face – _“I’ve got a small appointment on Saturday_” - he laughed, and Jim did not quite understand why.

_“Another video clip?”_

_“Oh, no”_ – Freddie replied. The vocalist said slowly, and Jim knew he was somehow teasing him - _“There will be cameras, but I will not be taking shots this time”_

 _“You're not going to tell me, are you?”_ \- It was Jim's turn to laugh. It was amazing how in such a short time he already knew the singer so good. He knew very well when Freddie was happy, upset, introspective... He knew how to interpret his tone of voice, and exactly what the singer meant to say before he even finished the sentence. He knew when Freddie was being truthful, sarcastic or in that very case, mysterious.

 _“Not now” –_ and Jim was right one more time _– “You'll find out” -_ Jim sighed. He usually did not like surprises. Especially Freddie's surprises. Not that they were bad, but it always involved situations that the hairdresser could not control; as paying expensive tickets to foreign countries or fancy restaurants and expansive bars that he could not afford. He felt uncomfortable, even because Jim only realized he was in a hopeless situation when Freddie had already planned and executed everything _– “Are you working on Saturday, darling?”_

 _“Yes. Until midday”_ – he replied, then something came up in his head - _“Ah, dear, I forgot to tell you…” -_  he passed the phone to his other ear, leaning on the telephone table in Mrs. Taverner's living room – _“Guess who showed up in the salon this week?”_

 _“Who?” -_ Freddie asked curious of his armchair in Munich. That was getting more and more common. Freddie and Jim talked on the phone more and more often. When Freddie was not in London for work - which was becoming constant since Queen was starting to record of their new album “A kind of magic” \- or for a weekend, they would not spend more than three days without to contact. They used to talk about how their days were, interesting things that happened during the week or situations that they passed in this time that they did not see each other.

 _“David Bowie!” -_ Jim exclaimed in response – “ _He came to the salon the other evening. I cut his hair”_

 _“Really?” -_ Freddie sounded surprised – “ _How was that?”_

 _“Well, someone called and made an appointment to Mr. Jones at the end of the evening”_ – Jim started to explain, his finger playing with the phone's digits as he told the story to his lover – _“He was late and I was a little angry because I had to close the salon”_

 _“This really sounds like David”_ \- Freddie joked.

_“When he arrived I realized he was David Bowie!”_

“ _How did you know it was him?”_

 _“I recognized him for sure” –_ the hairdresser replied _– “And I also asked him to confirm”_

 _“Wait a minute” -_ Freddie started, straightening up in his chair on the other side of the phone call, Jim realized that his voice had become a little affected _– “You recognized David and did not recognize me when we first met?”_

Jim sighed, laughing slightly and turning his attention to the window, visualizing the entrance garden of the small house that he lived. In fact, the day he met Freddie, the Irishman really had no idea who he was. And even after the first few times they had been together a few months before, he still did not know much about him. Of course now he had realized that Freddie was a very famous person. He was always surrounded by admirers; Jim also began to notice that _Queen_ was one of the bands that most people talked about and the productions, which Freddie had invited him to accompany, were just gigantic.

Freddie was a celebrity. And even if there were some counterpoints - as Freddie himself had already mentioned about media and harassment - he liked to be one.

 _“Yes, I did” -_ Jim confessed.

 _“You’re unbelievable!” -_ Freddie shouted. But then he began to laugh. He dropped his body into the soft upholstery of the chair, allowing his head to rest against the backrest – “ _I'm a bit offended, do you know that?”_

 _“You do not sound offended, dear” -_ Jim laughed lightly.

“ _I am!”_ \- Freddie lied, a smile still playing on his lips – _“I suppose it's time for you to find out then” -_ he spoke and his smile widened, slowly; a tone of mystery returned to his voice.

 _“Find out what?” -_ Jim recognized that tone, but he still could not understand what it meant.

 _“Never mind”_ \- Freddie flinched.

“ _Freddie…”_ \- Jim was about to ask him one more time about what the singer had in his mind. But his thoughts were interrupted when he saw Mrs. Taverner walking along the road trying to hold shopping bags that her old arms could not handle - _“_ _Sorry, honey, I have to hang up. I'll help Mrs. Taverner before she breaks a leg”_

 _“Alright” -_ Freddie replied with a sigh, feeling that he felt no desire to turn off the phone; he really wanted to keep talking to Jim _– “Just remember to go to my apartment on Saturday after work, okay?” -_ he said _– “Go straight there... Do not go home”_

 _“What are you planning, Fred?” -_ Jim could not hold himself this time. He saw through the window that the old lady had placed the bags on the floor and made a stop, he still had a few seconds before going to her to help. He really wanted to have some clue of what would be the next Freddie’s surprise and he prayed that it’s be nothing out of the ordinary.

 _“Don’t’ be so curious, darling!”_ \- Freddie replied; he sounded just like Jim's mother, the hairdresser thought, however without the Irish accent _– “Curiosity killed the cat!”_

_“But cats have seven lives!”_

_“That’s why I love them so much!” -_  Freddie said, laughing again and Jim followed him. Oh, they both missed that, did not they? It was not the same thing over the phone; their laughter was much better shared personally _._ Freddie let out another sigh as he stopped laughing, inexplicably wishing that London and Munich would not be so far away _– “I miss you, dear”_

 _“I miss you too, babe” -_ Jim answered and he felt completely warm. It was the first time Freddie had told him that, and somehow he knew it was truth, And the fact was, he also felt the same way _– “We catch up on Saturday, okay?” -_ they hung up and Jim quickly went to help Mrs. Taverner bring her purchases home.

 

.

 

Freddie had surpassed himself that time. That was definitely a big surprise. Jim was a little lost and he felt out of place. Staff employees, instrumentalists and famous musicians passed by him, coming and going, in all directions. In the background, he could hear, loud and clear, the yells of a crowd. He had never seen so many people together in only one place.

He watched from a little distance, photographers doing a small flash session, in an improvised setting backstage, of the four members of Queen. Freddie posed naturally to the cameras, wearing light jeans and a white tank top.

That was Live Aid. Freddie had taken him to the Live Aid.

As the singer had requested days before, he had gone to his apartment once again after work. There he found a hectic environment, and a rather anxious Freddie. They were watching Live Aid itself on television.

Jim did not bother to know what was happening. Maybe something had gone wrong with the _appointment_ that Freddie said he would have. But his surprise was huge, when the singer turned to him and asked him if he would not get ready. Ready for what?

Well, ready for _that_.

Queen was going to performance at Live Aid.

This was undoubtedly something totally unfamiliar to Jim. To be behind the curtains of a great concert, when he had never even gone to watch one. It felt like a kind of a dream. But Jim doubted that his brain had that much creativity to actually dream it all. It was simply unbelievable. Jim could be able to see so many famous singers and band that day. Among them were Phil Collins – who asked Freddie an autograph for his children -, Elton John – to who he was introduced as _My new man_ by Freddie-, and David Bowie - who acted a little weird when Freddie informed him that they already knew each other; David did not seem to remember that Jim had cut his hair. _Well_ , that really was not the world Jim was accustomed to living in. He was amazed by all that.

The Queen's photo shoot was over and Jim watched Freddie greeting the photographers and going toward him. _God_ , he looked so handsome that day. Jim felt his heart pound against his chest as the singer stopped in front of him and gave him a big smile beneath his black mustache.

 _“We are the next one” -_ he announced, and his voice sounded excited; Jim could see his light brown eyes glittering.

Jim noticed that Brian, Roger, and John were exchanging words with their wives. Chrissy May hugged his husband tightly, Dominique Taylor and Roger were kissing and Veronica Deacon was holding John’s hands tenderly. And somehow, Jim felt hugely happy that Freddie was speaking his last words before his performance with him.

The hairdresser wished he could do the same things that the wives of the other members of the band were doing. To embrace Freddie, to kiss him... and he realized that Freddie seemed to be craving the same thing; his gaze was fixed on Jim's eyes, and the hairdresser could be sure of _that_ , it was inside his brown iris. But they both knew they could not... Not there, where the whole world could see them.

 _“Well, good luck!” –_ That was what he could say, and he offered a huge smile to the vocalist. Freddie smirked back at him, taking a step forward, getting as close as he could to the Irishman and whispered so that only Jim could hear:

_“Try to keep your eyes on me, my darling”_

 

.

 

 _Try to keep your eyes on me_ , had Freddie said? As if Jim had any other choice. Jim was quite sure he had not blinked for those twenty minutes. For the first time, he really understood who was _Freddie Mercury_. The Irishman was speechless; he had gone into a trance where he could only watch _that_ man who jumped, danced and sang like no one in the world could ever do.

 _Freddie Mercury_ was a legend.

He could hear the uncontrollable screams of the audience, who sang all the lyrics loudly, threw their hands high in the air, clapping them in the rhythm of each song, jumping and beckoning to the four members of the band who had just performed such an unforgettable show for any viewer.

Jim could sense that everyone in the backstage - singers, performers, staff - all seemed to have stopped for a few seconds to appreciate and enjoy _Queen_.

The cameramen of various television channels were working hard, looking for the best angle to transmit that unbelievable moment. The eyes of the world were on that stage.

But Jim did not pay much attention to any of this.

Jim only had eyes for _that man_ in front of the stage.

Was he the same man he was going out with? Was he the same man who spent hours talking to him as having some tea? Was he the same man who shared a cigarette with him after they had made love and hugged him tightly before going to sleep?

Was it possible?

What Jim saw in front of him was a star. An artist that he had never seen another like. There was no one like him! Freddie Mercury was a king. And he governed his subjects, there in front of him, with joy and caring and was adored by all his kingdom.

Jim's heart was racing. And out of that moment his body seemed to fill with all the good emotions he could possibly imagine.

He finally accepted; he could no longer deny or escape…

He was madly in love with _Freddie Mercury_.

Both of them. The Freddie he already knew well - the quiet and funny guy who spent the afternoons in his company and who could be spontaneous and dramatic when he wanted - and that Freddie who commanded that crowd at that instant.

He was in love with that man.

And that man, that man on that stage…

That was his man there.

 

.

 

 _“Did you enjoy it?”_ \- Freddie asked seconds after they laid on the bed to rest from _that_ day. They were cuddled; their arms holding each other's body and their legs curled into the other’s under the sheets. They had gone straight back to Freddie's apartment after the concert. Freddie had dismissed the after party and preferred to watch the end of the Live Aid’s performances in Philadelphia from his TV at his living room. The singer was a bit tired, he had gone on stage three times that night, but somehow he did not feel like sleeping at all.

 _“What do you think?” -_ Jim asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he stared up at the ceiling; his arms around the other man's waist. All the exhilarating energy he had experienced during the last few hours still ran through his bones - _“It’s the first time I’ve been to a concert”_

Freddie moved in the hairdresser's arms to look in his eyes, as Jim turned to face him as well.

_“You’re joking!”_

_“No”_

Freddie stared at him in surprise, Jim could see his eyes shining under the faint light that came from the moon which streamed through the bedroom window. The singer raised his eyebrows, giving him a slight grin.

_“What did you think then?”_

Jim sighed, every second he lived that night were still vivid in his memory. And he was sure they would never leave. He would remember that day for the rest of his life.

 _“It was amazing, babe” -_ he replied sincerely trying to put into words all those sensations that were inside him – “ _You are amazing_” -  he leaded a hand to the musician's face, caressing his cheek with tenderness – _“Really, I don’t have words to describe it…”_

 _“Try” -_ Freddie really wanted to know. Somehow, the singer seemed to feel an immense need to know what the hairdresser had thought of the performance. His heart throbbed with anxiety as he watched Jim's Mocaccino eyes seem to fill with _life_. What was it that Freddie saw in them? It seemed a mixture of admiration and pride. _Oh, Jim._ Freddie was completely flattered that he could see _that_ reaction from his lover. That made him immensely happy; as he rarely felt. He was accustomed to receiving compliments about his voice and performance on the stage. Although the media insisted on trying to denigrate his image, no one could deny that he was simply _exceptional_ doing what he _did_. Fans, renowned artists, producers... everyone has always praised him. But there, at that moment, it seemed that only Jim's opinion mattered to him. He really wanted to hear what Jim had to say about it.

Jim paused, as he was searching for the best words in his head.

How to describe something that was perfect. Were there any words for that?

 _“Are you too tired, sweetheart?”_ – Jim asked, and Freddie's eyes narrowed without understanding the context of that question.

 _“Well, just a little, not much”_ – he answered – _“Why?”_

Suddenly Jim moved, throwing himself over Freddie, but not moving away from the warm contact of the other's body. The singer gasped slightly in surprise.

_“I think I can show you better how much I loved it”_

Freddie grinned, before their lips sealed in a hot kiss. They kissed passionately, their hands wandering over each other's already familiar bodies. Their hearts began to accelerate, their breaths became deeper, as the arousement started to dominate them completely.

Freddie's hands went to Jim's hair as the Irishman left his mouth and began to kiss the frontman’s face tenderly; his lips drawing a trail of adoration to every place he passed by… his cheeks, his eyelids, his front, his chin... Jim put all his feelings into each kiss as his hands slid over his _boyfriend's_ hip bones. Yes, they were _boyfriends_. No one could deny that. They were definitely boyfriends, and the hairdresser knew Freddie felt the same way. The way they gave themselves to each other every time they made love, the tender caresses that were always there in each simple moment they shared, the exchange gazes full of complicity… Only a fool could not see it. Only a fool could not see what was under their noses.

Freddie moaned as Jim's kisses came down his neck and he squeezed the other's hair, pulling him even closer to his flesh, appreciating every touch of the hairdresser on his skin, wishing more and more of that contact, while the Irishman lowered his lips over the singer's chest, nipples, abdomen…

 _Yes,_ Jim _really_ was right. He could show Freddie better. And Freddie could feel it all. At every touch, every brush of their burning skins, he could feel everything the Irishman wanted to tell him.

And that was simply wonderful.

Jim was feeling completely flattered, admired and lucky. His chest was full of amazing sensations.

Hours before Freddie Mercury was singing to the whole world, enchanting millions of people with his undeniable talent, delighting the planet with his unimaginable voice, being cheered by a crowd of admirers…

And _now_?

Now that same Freddie Mercury was there with him.

And now the only sound that came from that same amazing singing voice was just one name:

 _Jim_.

 

.

 

 


	13. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! One more chapter posted! Hope you like it! 
> 
> Translation and additional information are at the End Notes.
> 
> Leave comments, please! I love them!
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> Cat

 

 

 _“Are you sure he is coming?” -_ Winnie asked for the third time, trying to straighten himself in the chair, while his right foot tapped repeatedly on the floor under the restaurant table. He looked at his wristwatch without noticing that he had made the same question thirty seconds before.

Peter Ambacher rolled his light eyes, sitting on his chair in front of the cook. Peter was a Drag artist, very famous in the fabulous nights of Munich. He played at his bar Frisco, as _Miss Piggy_. He was an old friend of Winnie and also was close to Freddie since the singer moved to Germany. He was pretty known in the nightlife; Frisco was one of the best gay attractions in Bavaria and his drag character was beloved and admireted by the Munich’s, gay and non-gay, community.

 _“He comes here every Tuesday, sweetheart. If by chance he does not appear, it cleary means that luck is definitely not on your side” –_ he replied _._ They were in Zum Alte Markt in dowtntown, sitting at a nice table outside, the rays of the sun warmed their skins and the busy movement of the restaurant was welcoming. Peter studied the other carefully, before continuing – _“I must admit that I'm a little surprised you're not in your own restaurant by now. Is it not a busy time there?”_

 _“Yes, it is” -_ Winnie replied, looking once more at his watch, looking even more nervous – “ _I'll be there soon_ ”

 _“I see”_ \- Peter narrowed his eyes – _“And why is not Barbara with you today? Is not she your official couple’s translator?”_

Winnie cleared his throat, uncomfortably.

_“We fought”_

_“So that's why I'm here…”_ \- the drag queen nodded; he did not seem upset by that. In fact, he was always the second choice when Barbara was unavailable to be Winnie and Freddie’s translator when they needed; that did not upset him. But one thing he still did not understand – _“But why the hot blond guy is here?”_

 _"Shhh!" -_ Winnie whispered, casting a glance into the restaurant, more specifically toward the direction of the bathroom. No sign of the such blond man coming out of there – _“His name is Wolfgang”_

 _“I do not give a damn about his name”_ – Peter replied, looking a little irritated – _“Do you think I can not see what you're doing?” -_ He pointed a finger at his friend _– “That will not work, Winnie!”_ \- Peter had recognized that man who was accompanying Winnie that day. That was the same blond guy, the blond who had caused the whole confusion. A few months before, to make Freddie angry, Winnie had showed up at _Frisco,_ clinging to that same blond guy – Wolfgang. It worked well, that had made the singer mad as hell, and from what the drag queen could assume, to give the change, Freddie arranged Jim to do the same thing.

Well, but apparently things were working out better between Freddie and Jim, than Freddie and Winnie. Peter had seen Jim a few times in Munich with Freddie, and at each new meeting by chance, in some ordinary bar or even in his own show house, where he used to perfomance, Peter could see that they seemed closer and closer. Of course he could not say that that made him very happy; Winnie was his great friend, after all. He cared a lot about the other German and wished he and Freddie could get along again. But the _drag_ could not deny to see that Winnie seemed to be unsuccessful at his attempts.

He understood exactly what Winnie wanted. He knew exactly what his friend was trying to do. Winnie wanted to make a scene, right there. He wanted to get Freddie's attention by using that _same guy_ who had been the pivot of it all. He wanted Freddie to get furious and somehow wake up to see that he, Winnie, was also playing his little game. He wanted _that_ confusion, he wanted _that_ fight to happen, predicting that so the singer would finally be afraid to lose him and would return to him.

Winnie was doing exactly as he always did.

But Peter had the feeling that this time, it would not work.

And he could not explain why.

 _“And why not!?” –_ the cook raged, his face turning red – “ _It's working for him, is not it? Going everywhere with that bloddy Irish guy?_

_“Jim is a cool guy, Winnie”_

_“What?! Have you met him already!? –_ the cook shouted, a mixture of surprise and offense on his face.

 _“Yes, I have! And I must tell you that there is nothing wrong with him! He's nice!” -_ Peter glanced a concerned look at him and counseled _\- “I just think this is not the best way to get Freddie back!”_

Winnie was silent for a few seconds, his expression becoming blank, as if he was thinking about that. He swallowed hard, looking uncertain, before saying:

 _“It used to work that way, didn’t it?” -_ Peter did not have time to respond _– “He is here” -_ Winnie announced seeing the singer appearing from a corner, his Ray Ban covering his eyes; he was heading towards the restaurant doors with Joe at his side. Peter was right; he really went there every Tuesday _\- “Please, just help me out here, okay?”_ \- he asked, his voice soft, in a way that Peter or anyone else was not used to hear. Peter gave in.

 _“Freddie, my sweetheart!” -_ he shouted, putting a big smile on his face as he waved vigorously toward the singer, before he and Joe could enter the place. Freddie turned to their direction, staring at him, then at Winnie; he soon walked toward them with Joe on his heels _– “Where have you been? I don’t see you in ages!” –_ he commented as they hugged.

 _“I’ve been quite busy lately” -_ Freddie replied, he turned to Winnie, sketching a smile - _“ Hallo, darling!”_

 _“ Hallo, Freddie” – _Winnie swallowed again, visibly quite embarrassed _\- “How are you?”_

_“Good. You?”_

_“Good”_

They hugged each other. Peter and Joe exchanged odd looks; both noticing the lack of intimacy that this act seemed to have. It was obvious that something was wrong there; it did not seem like the same lovers who could barely stay away from each other as months before. When they parted, a strange mood got them all; that was really an uncomfortable situation.

 _“I saw Live Aid”_ – Peter spoke, trying to break that mood down. Oh God, that was so weird – _“You were phenomenal!”_

 _“Thank you, dear!”_ – Freddie then glanced at the other German, as if expecting him to say something. Winnie, did not have time to say anything. Soon Wolfgang stood beside him coming from the toilette inside the restaurant. The blond tensed as he recognized Freddie; not just because of his famous figure, but because the first time they met months before, the blond remembered very well that the vocalist and Winnie had started a fight in the middle of Frisco because of him. Since that, he had not heard from Winnie. Not until days before, when the cook had invited him for a lunch, after a long time without contact. Wolfgang thought that maybe the other German was not hanging out with the singer anymore, so he accepted. In fact, he hoped that he and Winnie would have some kind of date, so he was quite surprised to find Peter Ambacher as well; Well, apparently he was mistaken. Especially now since Freddie Mercury was there too.

The reactions of them all seemed to have taken place in slow motion. Joe's eyes widened, seeming to recognize the blond man that was in Winnie's arms that night months before, Winnie looked smirked, as if he was just waiting patiently for what would be coming, Peter just wished to simply disappear wanting immensely not to be part of that at all, and Freddie stayed still, stocked to the floor as a statue; his sunglasses’ lenses were covering his whole expression so no one in the world would be able to decipher what was on his mind at that moment.

And then would come the scene, wouldn’t it? The scene that everyone would be expecting to happen. Full of shouting, cursing, threats. Everyone would expect Freddie to explode. Everyone was waiting for that.

It was exactly what Winnie hoped would happen, even because that was his plan after all - to make the singer finally turn his attention to him.

It was exactly what Wolfgang expected would happen, since it was what happened the first time they met.

It was exactly what Peter waited would happen, as he had often witnessed when Freddie and Winnie fought in _his_ bar because about some little game of them, to infuriate each other.

It was exactly what Joe was afraid would happen, for the simple fact that it was what Freddie was accustomed to do; he had been like that with all his lovers.

But surprising everyone there, Peter, Winnie, Joe, Wolfgang and even Freddie himself...

Nothing happened.

Well, actually it did. But not in the way everyone expected.

After a few seconds - which seemed like hours - a hand of Freddie was stretched out toward the blond man.

_“ Hallo! Ich bin Freddie. Freund mich!”_

Silence. A dead silence. No one spoke for what seemed like a minute. Wolfgang was staring at the outstretched hand in front of him, expecting it to lock itself in a punch in the middle of his face, perhaps. But this did not happen. The hand was still in the air, waiting to be tightened.

 _“ Du bist Freddie Mercury, Ich kenne dich” _– he replied after clearing his throat - " _Ich bin Wolfgang”_ _-_ he shook his hand quite perplexed as Winnie, Joe and Peter were jaw-dropping. _Was that really Freddie Mercury? – “ Das Vergnügen liegt ganz bei mir!“ - _Wolfgang noticed that Freddie did not understand the last part _– “Oh… eh…”_ \- he seemed to search for the words; apparently Wolfgang spoke as much English as Winnie did or as Freddie spoke German _._

 _“He said: The pleasure is mine” - _Peter spoke, his eyes still wide. He wondered if he was having some delirium in any way. Freddie smiled at Wolfgang after the friendly but unexpected shake of hands. Peter glanced at Winnie. The German was standing there seeming to disbelieve in what he was seeing; it was as if he was in a state of shock. Oh God! Winnie was not waiting of that. Peter was not waiting for that. No one was waiting for that. He had to do something to help his friend. Anything! _\- "Would you like to sit with us?” –_ Peter asked the first thing that came to his mind _– “I have to go soon, but you could stay here with Winnie”_

 _“No. Thanks, darling, but I'd rather sit inside”_ \- Freddie replied, pointing into the restaurant – _“And besides…”_ \- Freddie gave Winnie a half smile; a half smile which was once again impossible to understand its meaning – “ _Winnie seems pretty well-matched_ ” - And before Peter could translate his words to the other two men, he turned to get in the restaurant with Joe – “ _Tschüss!”_

And he left, leaving Peter without a clue about what to do, Wolfgang totally confused with that whole situation and Winnie,  _oh poor Winnie_ , completely bewildered.

_._

_"... and to drink, I'll have a halb-mass, bitte"_ \- Freddie handed the menu to the waitress who soon left to arrange the orders. He took the sunglasses off his face and rested them on the table; his eyes wandered the place for an instant as he watched, without much interest, the other customers of the restaurant. As his attention finally turned to Joe, who was sitting across from him at the table, he noticed that the American carried a strange expression; it seemed a mixture of surprise and confusion – _“What!?”_

_“Could you please explain to me what was that outside?”_

_“ That what?”_

_“That spirit that took Freddie Mercury’s body!”_

_“Ah, please, Liza” -_ The singer rolled his eyes _– “What did you want me to do?”_

 _“Freddie” -_ Joe paused for a moment, trying to choose the best words to say - “ _You recognized that guy with Winnie, didn’t you?”_

 _“Peter?” -_ Freddie blinked, making an innocent face. Joe narrowed his eyes at his friend. Seriously? Would Freddie really start joking?

_“No! The other guy, Freddie!”_

The vocalist let out a sigh.

_“Yes, I did”_

Joe's eyes widened once more behind his glasses. Was that really possible? There was something wrong there. That was the perfect time for a fight! For years Joe had lived with it. When Freddie was upset by his lovers, they used to quarrel anywhere, for anyone to watch the show. Not that Joe liked that. In fact, he felt very uncomfortable. Joe suspected, that in Freddie's head, relationships should be that way. Rioting, fights, making up. That’s the reason Freddie used to play his mind games. He used to try to prove his worth to his partners by playing jealous games, just like he wished to do with Winnie and Jim. Joe had the impression that Freddie thought that thus making his lovers upset, would be the proof that they cared for him; and vice versa. In fact, Freddie always seemed to want a reaction, a scream, a scene. And that was what he used to do back as well. To show that he cared somehow. It was always like this. Well, at least until that day. And that was puzzling Joe. _A lot._ Freddie really did not glance outside yet? He did not grumble? He did not start making some other crazy plans? What was that?

_“And are you cool with it?!”_

Freddie said nothing, looking directly at his friend for a few seconds in silence. Joe had no idea what was going on in his head; and that was really rare to happen; Joe always knew what was going on in Freddie's mind.

_“What?! Do you want me to go outside and scream at them?!”_

_“I didn’t say that!” –_ Joe assured him. That was really weird. Very weird. No fights? No, Freddie really was acting weird. It was as if ... he did not care at all what had happened a few minutes ago. To find his lover with another man, who, by any chance, had been the subject of previous conflicts, and do not show any reaction on that...? No, that was not the Freddie Mercury that Joe was used to deal with. Who was that man in front of him? - _“It's just... I've never seen you act this way...”_

 _“I just…” -_ Freddie made a pause. It looked like that even Freddie could not explain what had happened. He was confused too. That would be the cue for a scandal, wouldn’t it? Freddie was used to it. He was not foolish to realize what Winnie was trying to do. He was acting just like Freddie, trying to get attention. Trying to make a scene. It was always like this, not just with Winnie, but with all his boyfriends. And it would be very obvious that Freddie would just get mad with that situation. Well, that's what Freddie himself would expect too. But the truth was, that didn’t exactly bother him. And that was something quite strange and pretty new. He did not mind, not even a bit, seeing Wolfgang with Winnie. Everyone expected the same reaction as always, Freddie realized that; however he simply did not feel, at that moment, any desire to start a fight or to claim his lover as his or to prove his worth or to prove that he cared a little about all that. Oh God, what the fuck was that? Freddie had no idea what was happening to him! – “ _I just didn’t feel like doing anything, I suppose” –_ he confessed quietly.

That also caught Joe by surprise.

_“Do you… want to talk about this?”_

To talk about it? To say what? To confess how ridiculous his _fucking_ plan was becoming to be? God! He was just getting everything he wanted, wasn’t he? Winnie was falling over oneself to have him back! _Winnie_! The _rude-and-macho_ Winnie! That Winnie who was not impressed with him or his fame. That Winnie that made Freddie do craziness to get his attention. That _same_ Winnie was right there, doing everything he thought he could do to regain him. Perhaps, Freddie could tell Joe that he was snubbing Winnie, couldn’t he? It seemed a plausible excuse for his lack of reaction over there; he could tell that he was just pretending he had not felt anything. Yes, could do that. But the truth was, he really had not! He had no reaction for the simple fact that... he just did not care! Oh Lord, _He,_ up there in Heaven, could at least give him any hint about what the hell was that, right? He could not talk about that; he just could not. Because he had no idea what that was! It never happened to him! Never!

 _“No” –_ Freddie finally replied in a low tone - _“Let’s change the subject…”_

 _“Okay…” -_ Joe got the message. When Freddie did not want to talk... he did not speak. It was that simple. Joe felt that even the singer seemed to have no clue about it. He did not want to _push_ Freddie; as always, Joe chose not to comment much on his relationships, although he suspected vaguely about what could be happening, he changed the subject as request – _“The recording on Saturday is confirmed at Suicide Block” – _Freddie nodded looking satisfied of the information and also pleased that his friend had switched the topic - _“And for next week, Brian, Roger and John also confirmed to be in London to start recording that song of Roger’s...” -_ he seemed to try to remember _\- “One ...? "_

 _"…Vision" –_ the vocalist completed.

_"That’s it"_

_"Yeah” -_ Freddie's started daydreaming for a moment as he seemed to reason about something. Indeed, Joe knew that look very well; Freddie's head was probably in the world of lyrics, melodies and vocal notes _– “I have some ideas to add to this song..."_

 _"Sure you have" -_ Joe commented laughing slightly. Of course Freddie had; he always had ideas to improve his bandmates songs. The waitress came back, bringing their drinks to which they thanked before she left again - _“Ah, and Jim’s flight is already booked” -_ he added after taking a sip of his orange juice.

 _“Great”_ – and Joe could not help noticing that Freddie's face seemed to light up – _“Saturday?”_ – the American nodded - _“Please, make sure someone picks him at the airport and drive him straight to the studio, okay?”_

Joe studied Freddie for a moment. There was definitely something there. Wrong or right, he could not tell yet. But something told Joe, deep inside him, that something was completely out of the ordinary. He watched Freddie take a big sip of his beer; the singer was carrying a small smile on his face. It was a different smile from what he'd directed to Winnie minutes before and once again, Joe could not figure out what that meant… yet. His eyes narrowed again at Freddie as he finally said:

_“All right”_

.

Jim turned towards the direction that he heard his name being called, before he could order the barman, on the other side of the counter, the drinks he wanted. He was in a club in the Bermuda Triangle in the center of Munich. Freddie had worked all day long on Queen's new album that Saturday, which ended pretty late that night. Surprisingly, the vocalist did not look tired at all; quite the opposite; he had actually suggested some bar downtown to drink before going home to rest. Reinhold Mack, Freddie’s German producer, dismissed the invitation, claiming that he was too tired.  Well, Jim could not blame him. Freddie and he had worked hard for hours and hours without a break. So, only him, Freddie and Joe went out to have a few cocktails.

It had been the first time Jim had seen his lover recording songs in a studio. He had watched Freddie all day while the singer recorded the lyrics several times or remixed himself the playback as he judged it would get better. Jim tried to be as quiet as he could that day; he did not want to mess up anything or take Freddie's concentration out. The musician was so focused on his tasks that Jim even thought that he seemed to forget that the Irishman was there; what made Jim be sure that that was not the case was the fact that Freddie, one time or another, looked directly at him through the glass screen.

At that very moment, Jim had left the table to get another round of drinks. As expected for a weekend day, the bar was crowded and some members of The Family were also there. As the hairdresser turned to the voice that called him, he found a pair of blue eyes staring at him. The other man was leaning over the bar with a small smile on his face.

 _“Oh! Hi, Patrick”_ – Jim greeted him, offering a grin – _“Long time no see!”_ \- It was true. Jim haven’t see the other Irishman since the little misunderstanding weeks before.

 _“That’s true”_ \- the redhead said timidly, he seemed a bit embarrassed, Jim noticed that. Was he still ashamed of what had happened? He did not have to; Jim was no longer bothered about that; it was just a little mistake – _“I’ve been away for a while... I was in Ireland!”_

 _“Ireland? Great!” -_ Jim commented happily, trying, somehow, to show him that everything was fine. There was nothing to be ashamed of – “ _How was that?”_

 _“My brother’s wedding” –_ Patrick replied, pleased to see that Jim’s tone was friendly; the other Irish was trying to make him more comfortable - _“I took the opportunity to stay there a little longer… spend some time with my family. I haven’t seen them for a long time!”_

 _“Oh, that sounds amazing! It's been a while since I've been there too” –_ Jim confessed.

 _“You should go!” –_ the redhead pointed out – _“This summer is pretty hot up there! Lovely!”_

 _“Can I get you something?”_ \- the barman asked politely, wiping his hands on a cloth, his German accent was thick in his voice.

 _“A vodka tonic and a double whisky, please” –_ Jim asked and soon he started to make his order.

Patrick moistened his lips, thinking twice before offering:

 _“Let me buy you this” -_ Jim raised his eyebrows at him looking suspicious, so Patrick held up his hands defensively _– “Just to reward for the other time... I still feel bad about that”_

 _“You don’t have to… It’s fine” –_ Jim replied _– “And also, I cannot accept it”_

Patrick did not have to ask why he did not want to accept it. He already knew why. Jim was a man who had his principles. If Jim was still visiting Munich, it meant that he was still with Freddie Mercury. And since Jim was with someone, and from what the redhead could tell about the other Irish, it meant that he would not accept drinks of some other guy.

Patrick was not trying to flirt with him, he really was not; it was just a kind offer.

But even so, Jim had given him no chance.

 _What a man_ , the redhead thought, while his light eyes analyzed him. So handsome, charming and correct. Jim was really different from other guys. He really wished he had seen him first… before Freddie. That thought made him flush.

 _“I see” –_ Patrick said shyly. Jim noticed that once again he was embarrassed. Jim didn’t want to make the other Irishman upset, but he knew that Patrick was already aware that Jim was not the kind of guy that would be accepting pampering from another man who was not his lover. Silence felt over them and the situation started to be awkward; the waiter was taking a little too much to serve his drinks, so the hairdresser tried to soften the mood once more:

_“Tell me about the wedding…”_

 

.

 

Freddie's eyes narrowed in the direction of the bar from the table he was sitting with his friends. His almost empty glass of vodka was being tightened by his right hand quite hard; if he put a little more strength on it, he could easily break it and make a great deal of damage. His face began to turn red gradually as his breaths became faster.

Joe was startled by the sudden change of his friend behavior. Seconds ago he was laughing and talking normally with everyone on the table and, out of the blue, he looked like he was about to...

_Wait a second!_

Joe quickly turned his attention to the direction Freddie was shooting.

There was Jim, leaning over the bar seeming to be talking to...

_Oh, no!_

The American turned again to Freddie who snorted like a ferocious bull ready to give his show in a Spanish bullfight.

 _That_ was the Freddie that Joe knew. That Freddie at his side at that instant, Joe knew _very_ well.

That Freddie was an atomic bomb about to explode. That Freddie was a volcano about to erupt.

That was the Freddie who made scenes when furious, who pick a fight with his lovers in front of an audience. That was the Freddie who thought he had to show his value at any cost, beating headlong, shouting insults, doing his mind games.

That was the unscrupulous Freddie, the Freddie of tumultuous relationships, the Freddie who believed that that kind of situation would only be fixed with a _good_ row.

 _“Melina…”_ \- Joe tried, but the singer didn’t even bother to look at him; his eyes looked straight to the two men talking at the bar.

The vocalist got up abruptly, beating his hands hard on the table producing a loud noise which made everyone, who was sitting there, to turn their attention to him. The family held their breaths as they watched the musician marching toward the bar.

Freddie looked like he had just doubled his size. He managed to look as intimidating as a real fighter, a trick that he probably had learned from his boxing classes when he was a little boy.

He stepped hard on the floor; people around were watching him, afraid but also curious to know what was happening.

Just wait, they were about to find out.

Get out of the way, _fellas_ , and get some popcorn.

The show was about to begin.

 

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Ambacher \- he was a close friend of Freddie and Winnie. I found him in my searches and I thought it'd be interesting to add a new character to the plot.
> 
> Hallo!\- Hello!
> 
> Hallo! Ich bin Freddie. Freund mich! \- Hello! I'm Freddie. My pleasure!
> 
> Du bist Freddie Mercury, Ich kenne dich! \- You are Freddie Mercury. I know you!
> 
> Ich bin Wolfgang \- I am Wolfgang.
> 
> Das Vergnügen liegt ganz bei mir \- The pleasure is mine.
> 
> Bitte \- Please.
> 
> Halb-Mass \- a half liter of beer.
> 
> Tschüss! \- Bye!
> 
> Suicide Block \- it was how Joe used to refer to the location of the studio which Freddie used to record in Munich.
> 
> .
> 
> Again I apologize for the delay to post. I confess that this chapter was quite difficult to write. It's easy for me to try to describe the relationship between Freddie and Jim; I see it as something light and pure and writing about these things is much easier. What I think is hard, it is describing how Jim became so important and essential in Freddie's life. And I think that's because of the kind of relationships he was used to have before Jim. Freddie had tumultuous affairs and he was used to that. But the fact that his relationship with Jim had been different took him by surprise at first. I believe he was not accustomed to this kind of relationship. At least, that's my opinion. My biggest goal with this fic is to describe how and why Freddie chose Jim for his life. Freddie had his fears and tested Jim conscientiously at first. I believe when he finally realized that Jim was all he ever wanted, all Freddie's fears were fading away. We'll see this more often in the next chapters! I promise! ;)
> 
> .
> 
> I also would like to thank LOVERboyz for asking me to write about jealousy. Wonderful tip, honey! Thank you for the idea! :D


	14. Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings!
> 
> Here comes chapter fourteen! A difficult chapter to write, but I loved doing it! I hope you like it!
> 
> Do not forget to leave me comments, please!
> 
> See you soon! :D

 

 

It was raining when they went outside. Jim had not noticed that the weather had changed while they were in the bar. Water drops fell on his clothes, wetting them little by little, as he walked away from the bar through the quite street; the muffled beats of the songs could still be heard through the walls of the nightclubs that surrounded the whole place and there were not people at the street, most of the them were probably sheltered inside the bars due the small storm.

Freddie kept shouting incomprehensible sentences behind him while Jim held the singer by the hand, dragging him away from where they were. Freddie did not try to stop him, preferring to be guided while he raged and screamed in a tone that Jim never heard coming from him before; rough and surly, tottaly different from his melodic voice.

Jim finally stopped in the middle of the street, turning to the singer and releasing his hand. Freddie's face was red and his expression was hard and intimidating. He seemed to be prepared to face some kind of battle.

 _“Can you please tell me what was that in there?” -_ Jim asked, his voice sounding too calm for the situation; Freddie was so agitated that he barely noticed it. The singer took a step toward Jim, staying close to the other body, but without touching it. His chest puffed out as he stared straight ahead - Jim and Freddie were almost the same height – at the Irishman’s brown eyes.

 _“Why don’t you tell me what was that in there, Hutton?” - _He returned the question, his hair beginning to get soaked and glued to his forehead, but he did not seem to care about it; the only thing he seemed to be worried about was to watch Jim’s reaction – “ _I am so disgusted by you!”_

 _“Disgusted by me?” -_ Jim pointed at him, looking confused. Drops of water were falling from his long nose _– “What the hell are you talking about?”_

 _“Don’t mock me! I saw it” –_ Saw? Saw what? The only thing Jim remembered was waiting for his drink while talking to Patrick. Freddie suddenly appeared at his side. He looked angry. Very angry. The singer had pulled him by the arm and began to speak loudly; phrases completely without any sense for Jim’s understanding:

 _“Well, what do we have here!?”_ \- he had spoken moments ago, his voice trailing and dangerous – _“A happy Irish couple! Am I interrupting something?”_

 _“Freddie...!” –_ Patrick tried to get started, but the vocalist did not allow it:

 _“I'll come to you later!”_ \- he said, pointing a finger at the redhead, who seemed to dislike it; his ginger eyebrows arched and his face was as serious as Freddie's.  – _“And you, you're going to have to listen to me first!” –_ he sentenced bringing his face close to Jim’s, his nostrils almost touching while Freddie shoted him a furious gaze.

Jim's eyes traveled the length of the bar as he noticed that at least half of the people had stopped dancing and talking; their attentions turned completely to them. He did not like it at all. He took Freddie's hand from his forearm, entwining it tightly with his own, and dragged the singer to the exit door. That seemed to catch Freddie by surprise; the musician had no reaction to it and simply let himself go, but not without directing some insults to the other Irishman who was still standing in front of the bar.

And now they were there, in the middle of the street with their wet clothes chilling their skins.

 _“What did you see, Mercury?” - _Jim looked a little puzzled. In fact, he did not understand exactly what was happening. He had never seen his lover that way before.

 _“Don’t play the innocent! I saw you with Patrick!” -_ Freddie gestured exasperatedly. Jim gave him another questioning look - _“What? Did want me to sit and appreciate him blinking those bloody blue eyes at you and say nothing?”_

Jim finally began to understand. So that was the problem. Of course, Freddie was annoyed by the fact that he was speaking to Patrick. Last time, the redhead had been the reason for a near-quarrel between them. And that last time Jim had not yielded to his lover's attempt to start a row. He had just answered Freddie simply and preferred to leave the subject quiet. At that exact moment, Freddie was apparently trying to start it again. Jim could not deny that he was a little upset with it. Freddie had given a few seconds of a scene to a crowded bar and Jim didn’t like it at all. They were now alone in a deserted street; they could begin to fight now, couldn’t they? Watching Freddie in front of him, the singer seemed to be expecting just that, just a cue to start the argument.

Jim sighed. He did not travel all the way from London to Munich for that, did he? He would not give in to Freddie's trickeries. Even because there was nothing to fight about! Nothing had happened! Freddie was making a scene for nothing! Once again, Jim chose to give him a simple answer; with his eyebrows raised, he said in a calm tone of voice:

_“We were just talking, Freddie”_

Freddie was once again taken aback. What was that? No shouting? No rough reaction? The singer really was not expecting that. Jim had answered him in a quiet, almost sweet tone. It was as if he tried to calm him down. The hairdresser looked at Freddie, and the singer could see, even in the rain, his attentive eyes on him overflowing with something the singer could not yet decipher. He had never received that kind of reaction from his past lovers; previously, he would already be in the middle of an ugly fight and perhaps entitled to some aggression. But Jim looked so calm and peaceful that he did not really understand what was happening at the time. Was not it for Jim to yell at him then?

Freddie crossed his arms in front of himself as some kind of defense to that situation, completely foreign to him. Or maybe he just wished to show a little more drama so that Jim would finally react the way Freddie thought the Irishman should react.

 _“I…”  –_ he started a bit unsure _– “I think he wished more then only talking to you!”_

Jim sighed once more, watching his boyfriend perking his nose up, so high that he did not know how the water was not getting into his nostrils.

 _“How does it even matter?” -_ Jim replied _– “I don’t give a damn for his wishes”_

 _“Really?” -_ Freddie turned to him again with narrow eyes – _“Because you seemed very happy with that! Don’t try to tell me that he was not flirting with you!”_

 _“Maybe he was… I don’t know, Freddie” -_ Jim shrugged; he really did not know. He had barely spoken to Patrick. He did not even want to know about Patrick. He was just trying to be polite. Why the hell was Freddie acting like that? What had he, _Jim_ , done anyway? He really did not like that situation. He really was very uncomfortable with that all. He just wanted it to end. He just wished that Freddie would finally go back to being the sweet and affectionate Freddie he knew. He was loathing all that _– “He offered to pay the drinks and…”_

 _“Oh, I knew it!” -_ Freddie interrupted, pointing a steady finger at him _– “I’ll go back in there and punch that stupid freckled face!” -_ Jim moved quickly, setting himself in front of Freddie as he turned around to go back to the bar. Great! The singer thought; finally, a reaction! _– “Don’t you want me to mess with your little boyfriend?” - _he sneered; a sarcastic expression taking over his face.

_“I refused it”_

That's all Jim said; another simple answer.

And that made Freddie’s expression soften a bit.

The singer swallowed hard, feeling his body warm up somehow, even under the cold water that fell on him.

 _“You did?” –_ he asked in a low voice, so different from the affected tone from seconds before, trying hard not to sound hesitant, but failing terribly on that task. Jim could notice it easily. Freddie seemed unsure about that information so Jim assured:

 _“Of course, I did” -_ It was Jim's turn to narrow his eyes at Freddie – _“I am quite offended, you know? You should know me by now” -_ Freddie looked away from Jim for a moment. The vocalist's mind was suddenly filled with memories. He remembered, once again, the very first time he saw the hairdresser. That night, he had offered a drink for the Irishman, to which he refused and the reason was… Jim was already accompanied that night too. Ironically, this time in Munich, Jim's company was Freddie himself. Deep inside him, Freddie knew that what Jim had just told him was true... The Irishman would never accept another man's flirt while he was with someone else. Freddie felt a little embarrassed, and he could not tell where that came from. He was sure that he had a good point to start all that row, to throw a scene, to make a big deal of it, but now, he felt ashamed somehow for doing all of that. When he finally looked at Jim again, he was almost certain of the words he would use to counter him, but the singer found his lover with a half-smile on his lips. Freddie was confused. Was he smiling at him? It was not a sarcastic smile; it was not a mocking smile. It was a light smile…  joyfully and warm. And before the singer could begin to argue or say anything else, Jim sentenced - _“You don’t need to be jealous”_

Freddie's eyes widened, and he felt himself blush. He was almost certain the raindrops, that fell all over him, could be evaporating due how hot his face became in that moment.

 _“Don’t be ridiculous!”_ \- He shouted, lying horribly; that only made Jim's grin grow on below his wet moustache – _“I’m not jealous!”_

 _“Yes, you are!”_ \- Jim burst into laughter. That made Freddie freeze for an instant. Was he really laughing? Freddie then watched the other man take a step forward, coming close to him and surprisingly - from the singer's point of view - he spoke with the purest tenderness; his low voice and thick accent seemed to resonate beautifully with the wonderful sound of water falling from the sky - _“Please, honey, you don’t need to do that”_

 _“Do what?” -_ The question left his mouth promptly; Freddie haven’t even noticed that he asked that.

The answer was simple. Yes. One more time. Just simple:

_“Act like that”_

Freddie was silent for a few seconds; the storm became stronger around them. None of them seemed to care about that. Their clothes were soaked, their hair wet; water was running down their faces leisurely, tracing their skins until they finally would fall to the ground.

 _“How come I do not need it?”_ – Freddie wanted to know. _Yes_ , he did want to know for real. _This_ was really new to him. Did Jim really expect no reaction from the vocalist? Was not Jim trying to play _games_ with him? Those _games_ that Freddie was so used to play with his lovers? And why had Jim given him no reaction? Why had not Jim confronted him back when he tried to start a discussion? Did Jim actually care that he could be jealous? Why the hell had Jim shown him nothing? Nothing! That was a way to show that he, Freddie, cared about Jim, right? That whole scene was a way to show that he had feelings for him, wasn’t it? Why Jim did not say anything? Why?

 _Oh, Freddie_ ; He was just confused, wasn’t he? All that concept of wanting and showing affection was so abstract in his head. Throughout his relationships he always did that. He always did the same thing. And he always got the reaction he wanted. But now, _there_ , it was the first time he had a completely unexpected response to his own behavior. If Jim argued, if Jim yelled... he might be able to handle it _all_ much better. He knew how to stand that kind of situation. But the way the barber was acting at the moment - with his soft replies and playful smile - Freddie did not know what to do.

It tormented him. Badly.

He did not know what that truly meant.

And he really, really needed to know:

_“Come on! Tell me, Jim!”_

And what came next, _ah_ , that left Freddie - if it was possible - even more astonished.

Jim wrenched the distance between them, joining their bodies as he took one more step to Freddie direction and sealed their mouths without thinking twice.

Freddie felt his heart almost rising through his throat and his knees faltered with such surprise; he was quite sure that either he would have a heart attack or he would fall badly on the ground.

But none of that happened. Jim held Freddie in his arms, keeping him on his feet as the Irishman's heartbeat - which Freddie could feel through the contact of their chests - calmed a little the mad pounding of his own heart. But just a little. His heart was beating fast in his chest, pumping blood all over his body and making him completely warmed; from his feet to the hair strands.

Everything faded away from Freddie’s mind. Everything. His confusion; his jealousy; his games… The only thing that made sense at that moment was Jim's warm lips over his, kissing him passionately in the middle of the street.

Jim was glad when he finally felt Freddie's hands around his shoulders as the singer brought him closer. It was a delicious, daring kiss. Jim just didn’t expect something like that would happen. Him, _Jim_ , who did not felt comfortable with public demonstration of affection, had pulled his lover to a kiss, right there, in a place where anyone passing by could see them.

But at that moment Jim did not give a damn. He also forgot everything. He forgot the scene that Freddie tried to make moments before, he forgot that he should have been upset with the musician for having forced that situation. But, honestly, he hardly remembered those things. In fact, that instant, he could only appreciate Freddie's body so close to his own and he was quite sure that Freddie was felling the same way.

They had given themselves to that moment with such passion, with such _love_ that they wished, deep inside, that it would last forever. All those sensations. All that contact. The rain that was falling on them was so wonderful and welcome; the taste of fresh water mixed with their own flavor could be felt as they mouths and tongues caressed one another; their wet bodies stucked to the other one’s was completely delectable and even there, in the midst of that storm, they warmed themselfs as if they were in front of a bonfire that would never cease.

It was powerful. Surreal. Magical.

Jim was the one who broke the kiss, however he did not move himself much away, only enough to lean his forehead against Freddie's; their eyes still closed. They stayed like that for a few seconds, just enjoying the rain that fell over them as they breathed hard by their half-opened and swollen lips.

 _“You don’t need it because I only have eyes for you” –_ Jim said softly, bringing a wet hand to the singer's face, caressing his dripping cheek. They opened they eyes to stare at each other; an electric current seemed to go through all their bones _– “It’s only you who I want”_

Freddie thanked God that Jim was still holding him; he was almost sure, once again, that he would fall on the street. A huge desire began to grow inside him.

 _His. Jim was his. No one else's_.

Jim could see, with an immense satisfaction, that his Freddie had come back. Soft, affectionate and passionate.

The singer bowed again, joining their lips once more. All forgotten. All. He forgot why he had quarreled. He forgot the lack of reaction he had expected from the hairdresser. He even forgot that that had puzzled him. He did not want to think about that now. _Not now._

He just need Jim. All he needed was Jim.

 _“Home?” -_ He asked; an almost desperate gaze beneath his wet eyelashes.

Jim nodded, as urgent as Freddie.

_“Quickly”_

_._

 

The fuss at the bar was back to normal. There were a few comments and murmurs, but soon all the customers had returned to what they were doing – talking, dancing, flirting -moments after the little discussion that had taken place in the bar. They all seemed to forget the little confusion.

At the table, The Family had returned their conversations ordinarily as if there were never other two people sitting there previously.

Joe seemed to be the only one who was still agitated. He glanced constantly at the door, where Jim and Freddie had left, hoping they would show up at any minute.

But they never came back.

That started to worry the American. He had seen many of Freddie’s fights and he knew very well how some of them might end. Freddie was not usually violent, but the vocalist knew how to defend himself when necessary. Of course, Joe prayed that it wouldn’t be needed. He was apprehensive. Where the hell were those two? Were they still fighting? Was Freddie all right?

 _“They have not returned yet”_ \- someone commented on the table, which Joe did not even care to know who had said it.

 _“I noticed it”_ \- he replied a little grumpy, his smart eyes sweeping across the bar searching for some clue. His gaze rested in the same place that _all that_ had begun. Leaning over the bar was Patrick, still there, with his arms resting on the bench, his body leaning forward and his head bowed – for shame or humiliation, Joe could not say - he noticed that the redhead had just turned a dose of some drink.

Joe jumped up, walking in that direction, diverting from some people dancing on the dance floor to get there.

 _“Patrick”_ \- he called, and the Irishman faced him. Patrick studied Joe for a few instants.

 _“I didn’t do anything, Joe”_ – he said, making a small sign to the waiter to service another drink for him – _“I didn’t say anything to Jim or Freddie. So if you came here to yell at me as well, I swear I will…”_

 _“I just want to know where they are”_ \- Joe cut him off and Patrick raised his eyebrows at him. The Irishman laughed loudly, finally straightened himself and standing upright.

 _“And you’re asking me that!?” –_ he pointed to himself seemed quite amused _– “I have no fucking idea where there are, Joe. They just left!”_

Joe sighed.

_“All right. I’ll find them”_

Patrick leaned back on the bar as soon as his new dose arrived, but before Joe could turn to leave, he spoke in a quite low voice, his fingertips circling the border of the glass:

_"It seemed Jim is not only a dessert anymore, right?”_

Joe frowned, not understanding.

_“What do you mean?”_

Joe got no reply. Patrick did not answer the question; he just smiled slightly however it seemed a little upsetting. Joe still did not comprehend. He studied Patrick. He thought about asking one more time, but he gave up. He did not have time for this. He needed to find Freddie. He needed to check if the singer needed help. If he was all right.

Joe left, disappeared through the exit just as Jim and Freddie had done, leaving Patrick alone at the bar once more.

 _“I think you’re right. He is definitely not a dessert anymore” - _Patrick heard someone speaking and it had been in German. Patrick spoke German enough to understand what had been said. He turned to the voice, meeting a blond guy at his side - _“I’m sorry, I don’t speak English, so I just asked the barman to translate it to me”_ – the guy explained pointing to the other German behind the bar, who gave Patrick an apologize look. The redhead turned his attention to the blond again, who was now offering him a small smile – _“I think I know more or less how you feel right now”_ \- He then held out a hand to Patrick – _“It’s nice to meet you” –_ Patrick shacked his hand trying to return the grin _– “I’m Wolfgang”_

 

.

 

They fell heavily on the large couch. Neither of them could explain how they managed to walk all the way from the front door to the living room without ever breaking the kiss. Jim was over Freddie’s body; the hairdresser’s hands ran all over the singer’s wet and naked thorax as Freddie did just the same with him; their sopping shirts had been dropped somewhere on the flat's floor.

Jim kissed Freddie's neck to which he sighed with pleasure; their soaked bodies began to move in a synchronized rhythm and their already obvious _excitement_ brushed over the jeans they still wore.

They both moaned.

Freddie brought his hands to Jim's wet hair, bringing him closer to his skin. _Oh, he loved it._ A thunder could be heard from outside, but they barely seemed to have listened it. They were too bewildered by every touch and brush of their bodies still covered in rainwater.

 _“Wait!”_ – Freddie said suddenly, making Jim stop what he was doing to stare at him; his small brown eyes full of desire as well as the eyes of the man beneath him – _“Cats!”_

The Irishman scanned the room a few seconds, but not moving from where he was.

 _“I don’t see any”_ – Jim replied. He understood what Freddie meant; his boyfriend did not like his _children_ to see them having _intimacies_.

Freddie looked around as well, also without moving yet.

 _“I think they are in my room” –_ the singer concluded _– “That’s great” -_ he gave him a naughty smirk and, in one quick movement, he pushed the other man to the other end of the couch, making Jim lie down and turned the positions. Now it was Freddie who was on top of Jim.

They kissed again, their breaths mixing as their noses touched, their lips sucking gently the other one’s and their moustaches shuffling over their joined mouths.

 _“Say it again”_ \- Freddie spoke softly in Jim's ear, while kissing his lobe. Jim breathed hard, holding Freddie’s thin hips tightly – _“Say that_ _it’s only me who you want”_

Jim put his hands on Freddie's face, making him look into his eyes once more.

_“It’s only you who I want, my love”_

Freddie's heart warmed. And he smiled happily. His hands went down to Jim's jeans and he opened its button. Jim also tried to open Freddie’s belt, but he seemed to have difficulty.

 _“Why do you always have to wear these strange belts?” -_ he complained, but he left out a laugh to which Freddie followed.

 _“Because they’re fashion, darling!”_ – Freddie moved a bit up – _“Here, let me help you”_

He could not do it so.

Their eyes widened as they looked at each other in surprise.

They had heard the front door opening.

 _“Freddie! Freddie!_ ” – it was Joe’s voice, and he sounded quite agitated – _“Are you there?” -_ Freddie did not have time to respond. As Joe entered the living room - he was just a little wet, probably he had taken a taxi to get there, different from Jim and Freddie who had walked fast all the way under the rain - he saw Freddie's head from one of the sofas positioned with its back to the direction of the American. Freddie was sure his friend could only see his face at the moment – _“God! I was fucking worried! How are you?”_

 _“I am pretty good, dear” -_ Freddie replied feeling his face blush, he cast a glance at the Irishman underneath him who was as red as himself – _“What are you doing here?”_

 _“What do you mean what I’m doing here?! You disappeared!” -_ Joe exclaimed _-_ “ _What happened? Where is Jim?”_

A few seconds of silence. Jim's head finally appeared from the couch too.

_“I’m right here, Joe”_

More silence. Joe blinked.

_“What are you guys doing?”_

Freddie and Jim exchanged embarrassed looks.

 _“What do you think we’re doing?” -_ It was Freddie who asked back.

Joe studied them for a moment from the living room entrance. Then he analyzed the whole place; there was a wet trail from the hall to the couch and two soaked shirts were lying on floor near from where the American was standing. Joe's face turned red. He had finally realized what was going on.

 _“Oh my god!”_ – he started to babble – _“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t what… I don’t what to see that!”_

 _“We are not naked if that’s what you’re thinking”_ – Freddie assured – _“Not yet at least… maybe if you were a bit later, we would…”_

 _“Freddie!” -_ Jim shouted, making him shut. _Oh god,_ what a situation!

 _“Were not… were not you fighting before?” –_ Joe pointed at them.

 _“We weren’t”_ \- Freddie and Jim said together in a choir.

Joe blinked once more. He did not really understand what was happening. He expected to find everything, everything when he’d finally find them. Shouts, insults, fighting… Freddie upset… Freddie nervous… Freddie mad. Everything. But definitely not that! Definitely not!

What the hell was going on?

 _“I- I think…”_ – he stuttered, pointed outside. The rain was still falling – _“I think I should... I mean I'll... I’ll just go back to the bar”_

_“Joe, you don’t need to leave because...”_

_“Oh, I must, Jim!” -_ Joe interrupted him, his face still completely flushed _– “Believe me!” –_ and off he went. Freddie and Jim heard the door close.

 _“I think we should get the cats out of the bedroom”_ – Freddie suggested after a few more seconds of silence. They were still looking at the direction Joe had left.

_“I suppose you’re right”_

 

.

 

 _“I knew I smelled tea” -_ Joe turned to find Freddie entering the kitchen wearing one of his robes. It was already early morning; the weather was cloudy and the rain could still be heard outside, but much weaker than the night before.

 _“You? Up at this time?” –_ Joe laughed slightly, catching another mug from one of the cupboards to serve Freddie and himself with the hot liquid.

 _“Miracles do happen, darling” -_ Freddie joked, his voice still hoarse for waking up recently. The singer sat on one of the kitchen chairs, letting out a sigh – _“But I plan to go back to bed”_ \- Freddie took the cup Joe gave him, sipping the delicious red fruit tea. Joe also drank his tea, leaning against the stand near the sink.

 _“Where is Jim?” –_ he asked quietly.

 _“Still sleeping” –_ Freddie replied bringing one of his hands to support his chin, his elbow resting on the table _– “Can you believe it?” -_ It was no secret that Jim used to wake up early.

_“There are many things that I cannot believe, Melina. This I can tell you”_

Freddie rolled his eyes playfully.

 _“We were not actually doing anything when you arrived last night, Liza!” –_ he said _– “And I am sorry for that, by the way. We just did not know you’d come!”_

 _“I was definitely not expecting to see that, Freddie” - _Joe replied laughing – _“And I confess that I really did not know how to act” -_ he then cast a considerate look to his friend – _“But I was not talking about that”_

Freddie sighed once more. He knew very well what the American was talking about. Joe wanted to know what had happened that night, didn’t he? The night before, Joe was probably expecting the same as _always_ would happen. Well, it didn’t happen Joe. It just didn’t. Why? Freddie could not tell why. Freddie did not know how or when but Jim simply disarmed him. Simply as that. Freddie was right there ready for a fight, he really was; But, out of nowhere, that Irishman simply took him to another dimension. During that moment, Jim had left Freddie weaponless and the singer didn’t even notice how he did it.

It puzzled him. A lot.

The night before, after that conversation in the rain, Freddie just let himself go. He was so enraptured by the way things took and the twist of events, that he simply gave himself up to that completely strange but wonderful situation. It had all been forgotten during the following hours in between hot kisses, tight embraces, moans of pleasure and glares of love. It was incredible how Jim could do _that_ to him. That Irishman made him lose his reasoning, made him fumble with his senses, made him just follow his instincts.

But dawn had arrived, and the storm had gathered more force, making hideous noises between the doors and windows and illuminating the black sky of Munich with flashes of lightning.

Jim slept calmly in Freddie’s arms with his head resting on the musician’s shoulder during all the gusty dawn. But Freddie could hardly sleep; all the confusion returned to him, tormenting his thoughts and not letting him rest.

He watched Jim dreaming, hugging his boyfriend's larger body against his own, stroking his hair occasionally and listening to the hairdresser’s breath against his neck; meanwhile, his brain did not stop working.

Jim and he had known each other for months now. Freddie could not deny that the relationship they had was getting deeper and deeper each day. The vocalist was not a fool to not admit that the plan he had invented months before was really taking an unexpected unroll. Jim was becoming more and more important in his life. He thought about Jim during the days and during the nights, wondering what he would be doing in those moments when they were not together. And when they were together, he appreciated Jim's presence immensely.

And he was almost certain his lover felt the same. He really believed that the Irish also thought of him when they were apart and that he also enjoyed the singer’s presence when they could finally see each other.

He really believed that he, Freddie, was starting to be as important in Jim's life as the hairdresser was to him. He could not deny that he felt it. Jim showed it in every look, touch, kiss.

Freddie was sure he was special to Jim too.

But then why was Freddie so distressed?

Well, the problem was just that.

If Freddie was important to Jim that was time to claim it, right?

 _Yes_ , what intrigued Freddie the most was Jim's reaction. Or rather, the lack of it.

The musician always thought that all the epic fights he'd had with his lovers were a demonstration of how much they mattered to each other.

And everyone, all of his boyfriends, reacted just the way he expected.

Everyone but Jim.

That had been different. That had been new. No ruffle. No madness. And Freddie really, really did not know what to do with that.

He could not say he did not like it. The way Jim had taken him had been unbelievable. One instant the singer had been about to make a scandal and soon he was in Jim's arms without even the Irishman having raised his voice. He loved it, he could not deny it.

However, it was nothing he was accustomed to.

He did not get the reaction that he knew so well and he just did know what to do with what he got instead.

What about all the proofs of love that Freddie was used to? And all the scenes of the passion anger? Where was that? Was that really not needed?

Freddie could not help but kept wondering if the _lack_ of reaction he got from Jim meant that the Irishman really cared. He kept wondering if it really meant that he, Freddie, was the only one he really wanted _._

If it was true what Jim was saying, so why did he not show _it_ then? Show it like all the _others_? The anger of passion? The wrath of lovers? Was that really a proof of love?

_ Oh, Freddie. Could you not see it, darling?  _

_ Jim had just showed you.  _

_ That was exactly what this was all about!  _

_ You didn’t need any of this! _

_“Freddie?”_ – Joe woke him from his daydream, before Freddie could pay more attention to that little voice that started speaking lowly in his head. The singer watched Joe's eyes attentive on him, and he was sure that his friend was expecting some kind of response _– “Do you… want to talk about it?”_

Again that question. And again Freddie had no answer to give. He looked away from Joe, his gaze went directly to the window and he watched the small raindrops hitting the glass, hoping to find some reply at the rain outside. Nothing.

_“No”_

 

.

 

 


	15. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears. First, I would like to justify my absence. I had personal problems that needed to be resolved and I got a little sick in this process, which prevented me from writing. I'm so sorry, I didn't want to take that long to update.
> 
> Now I'm fine and I finally could concentrate on finishing this chapter. Hard to write, intense and involving the thoughts of important secondary characters. I had to use a lot of my poor imagination to try to describe everyone's feelings here. I really hope you guys like it. Let me know, ok? Leave me comments, please!
> 
> Love
> 
> Cat

 

 

It was crowded and noisy; as anyone would expect on a Friday night at Heaven nightclub. Loud music entered everyone's ears as they slid on the dance floor to the sound of some new _hit_. All sorts of people lingered here, mostly gays - men and women - and some open-minded straight people who knew there might not be a better club in the London nights to drink and have real fun.

Phoebe tried to walk past the crowd with two cocktails in each hand, slipping through sweaty bodies and apologizing when he had to interrupt someone’s conversation and pass between two people. As he climbed the stairs to go to the next floor - where people could get a good view of the downstairs dance floor bathed in colored lights and dancing customers - he felt a pinch on his butt. He looked back and to both sides quickly but did not find the author of the action.

 _“Hey, Phoebe, here!”_ – Peter Straker voice came to his ears amidst the beats of music. Phoebe casted a few more backward glances before heading toward him, who was leaned against the balcony, next to Joe, with a privileged view of downstairs.

 _“Someone just squeezed my ass!” -_ he said as soon as he got close to the _other_ Peter - they had the same name after all - holding out one of the drinks to him; his expression was a mixture of surprise and amusement in his chubby face.

 _“Lucky you, I wished someone squeezes mine!” -_ he laughed, getting the drink from Phoebe’s hand – _“Thank you, sweetheart. Next time it is my turn to get us something”_ – he looked at Joe, who was leaning over the parapet, observing the people dancing below them – _“You sure you won’t have a drink?”_

 _“I’m done with this, Peter. I got carried away last time, alcohol does not do me any good” -_ the American replied with a half-smile. It was true; in fact, Joe had decided some time ago to stop drinking. The sensations of countless nights that he had passed out without any memories took his mind in an instant. It was not good for him. He had reached the point where he had no control over his actions and his life had become constant hangovers; his breath and sweat were simply always mixed with the taste and smell of alcohol of consecutive days of drinking. Although he did like to drink, he had simply come to the conclusion that it was no longer worth it as he did not know how to control himself.

Of course he had relapsed sometimes. Just like weeks before when Phoebe had had to carry him out of that _same_ nightclub and took him to his bed because he could not walk. The next day reminded him why he chose to not drink anymore. And since then he'd been trying to stand firm and indulge himself with cold Coke or some energy drink when he'd began to feel tired.

Joe did not like it any more. Yet he did not judge his friends. There was a big difference. Freddie was resistant with drinks and even when he was drunk he did not get out of his mind like Joe; Phoebe knew his limit and stopped whenever he thought he had enough and Peter Straker preferred to enjoy the songs and the dances much more than to be turning innumerable doses of some alcohol.

He wanted it to be like that for him too. But since none of those were his case, he simply did not drink any more.

 _“Alcohol is no good to anyone”_ – Straker replied, taking a sip of his drink – “ _I wished I have your willpower._ _But I must confess that I really do not have it!” -_ The three men laughed.  Peter fixed his gaze somewhere downstairs. In fact, he had been staring there for some time now so Joe could notice. There was a dark-haired man with a _Latino_ appearance looking up at the singer. They were already exchanging looks for a while _– “Now if you guys excuse me, I’ll be the one to squeeze someone's butt” -_ and soon he headed to the stairs, listening to Joe and Phoebe laughing once more at his joke.

Phoebe took Peter’s place right away, leaning on the balcony just as Joe to watch the nightclub environment. Soon he saw two well-known figures dancing on the dance floor, bodies glued to each other as they moved in the rhythm of the song.

 _“They look good together” -_ Phoebe said, a grin appearing beneath his big cheeks.

It did not take long to Joe identified who he was talking about.

 _“Yeah, they do” –_ he replied, a small smile also played on his lips as he watched the two lovers from up there.

 _“I like Jim. Freddie looks happy when he's with him” -_ Joe did not respond, he just watched Freddie throw his arms around the other man's neck as he pulled him closer. Phoebe turned to the American before asking – _“What? Don’t you like Jim?”_

 _“I do. He is a really cool guy” -_ he assured sincerely. He liked Jim. That was true. Jim was light; he had a peaceful personality, it was easy to get along with him. Joe watched Phoebe's eyebrows arched in his direction, colored by the green and red lights of the club.

_“So, what’s the problem?”_

Joe sighed. All the events of those last few weeks returning to his mind. He had always thought he could read Freddie easily. He knew Freddie like nobody else and he knew Freddie trusted him a lot. But lately something about Freddie's behavior was not making much sense to Joe. Not that Freddie was someone easy to decipher; far from it; however years of coexistence made Joe, one of the few people who could simply understand _Freddie Mercury_. His mood swings, his unstable behavior, his good and bad times... Joe simply knew Freddie or at least he thought he knew him enough. But over the last few weeks, it was as if a completely different person had taken the place of his friend. His behaviors and his simple denial to talk about what he was feeling was something totally new. The American was almost certain that this was due to the fact that not even the singer knew what was happening to him.

Joe did not want to push him. He really did not want to overtake Freddie’s space. But he himself was confused too. Confused and very apprehensive with that new Freddie; a Freddie who at the same time was the same as before, but who also showed himself in some moments as a totally different person. Joe knew it was not everyone who could see that. Perhaps because he was with the singer 24 hours a day, it made him capture that subtle change easily. Maybe the fact that Joe _lived_ with Freddie made him realize that _another_ Freddie was starting to take older Freddie's place. Or not. Or maybe that _new_ Freddie was always there, and only now, just now, he was beginning to fell comfortable enough to just show up, starting to gain strength to show himself little by little.

Joe could not know yet. And under Phoebe’s watchful eyes at that very momento, the only thing he could say, it was:

_“Freddie is different”_

And Phoebe frowned even more, without actually understanding.

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I don’t know” -_ Joe shrugged, turning his attention to Freddie and Jim, moving their bodies on the dance floor, hugging each other _– “He's just... different”_

Phoebe did not answer at once, trying to understand what it was all about; he watched the American sighing again before asking:

_“And that's a bad thing?”_

_“I cannot tell yet” -_ Joe met Phoebe's light eyes again and saw them looking at him questioningly. He wanted an explanation and Joe tried to explain himself _– “Freddie had this plan in his head to make Winnie jealous. But he seems to have forgotten about that”_

Phoebe smiled, taking a sip of his drink one more time, as if that was not a big deal at all.

 _“Have you looked to Jim yet? I suppose it might be easy to forget about any plan with someone who looks like him” -_ They laughed at the joke, while both of them turned once more to watch the couple downstairs, clinging to each other, moving in synchrony as if no one else around existed _– “Is he still seeing Winnie?”_

 _“No, it’s been a while…” -_ Joe simply replied, trying to recall the last time he had actually seen Winnie and Freddie together. He could not remember it _– “But I do not think this really has anything to do with Winnie” -_ he confessed to the other man, trying to make him understand what he really wanted to say _– “What I mean is... Freddie is different... with Jim._

Phoebe did not answer immediately.

 _“That’s a good sign, right?” -_ he finally said, wetting his lips again with his cocktail _– “I mean, I’m pretty fine if Freddie does not appear, desperate, at my room’s door with bruises from some fight that he had with his boyfriends”_

 _“I'm not saying that's a bad thing, Phoebe”_ \- Joe finally moved, turning sideways to face the big man next to him. Now that he had begun, he felt that he should just keep on, to speak at once what afflicted you for weeks _– “I'm just a little concerned”_

_“About what?”_

_“You know how it is when Freddie falls in love” -_ he said, seeing Phoebe's eyes flicker as his rather amused expression became a little apprehensive as Joe's _– “I know exactly how it is, Phoebe” -_ Joe said slowly, realizing that Phoebe finally seemed to understand where he wanted to go with that conversation – _“It's easy to get tired of it. In my case I just gave up, I could not take it anymore”_ \- he blew out. Joe rarely talked about the relationship he had with Freddie when they were a couple. As just like most of Freddie's relationships, Joe and he broke up for good. However, unlike the singer’s other relationships, he and Freddie were able, after a few years, to develop a friendship without any hint of hurt or bad feelings about what they went through _._ They became great friends, and Joe worked for Freddie now - what a turnaround. Joe would not exchange the relationship they had now for anything. Honestly, Joe sometimes barely remembered that they have been lovers before; Freddie's friendship was far more valuable to him and what he felt for the vocalist nowadays was the purest brotherhood. Joe was one of the few cases which _that_ happened to Freddie regards to his ex-boyfriends. Usually things used to end badly. Very bad. Joe knew that. Just like Phoebe knew as well. They both knew how Freddie Mercury's relationships were and how they ended. Joe saw in Phoebe's eyes that the Englishman now understood very well what he was talking about. _New_ relationships, _same_ problems. It was so with Freddie. Unfortunately. And with each new boyfriend, old and new intrigues showed up and they both, Phoebe and Joe, had to deal with that; year after year _– “But things can become very dangerous and you know that well” -_ Joe finished, his face a little distressed.

It was Phoebe's turn to sigh. Yes, he knew it. Screams, cries, aggressions. Phoebe knew very well. And he, deep inside, felt bad for Freddie. That seemed to be the reality for the singer. The reality inside Freddie’s own head. But something told Phoebe that Freddie craved for something, _someone_ different. Someone who really could show him what a relationship was about. Someone who really could give him the _kind of love_ he deserved. But Phoebe also knew he could not do anything about it. He could not just show the _way_ to Freddie. Neither he nor Joe. Freddie had to, he needed to, find out the way himself. Freddie needed to understand that himself.

 _“That depends on him, Joe” –_ he replied _– “We cannot interfere._ _Freddie has to learn how to deal with this” -_ Phoebe then looked down again, catching Freddie laughing with something Jim had said on his ear. That, somehow, made Phoebe's heart warmed _– “And maybe that's the best chance he'll have in his life” -_ he then turned back to Joe _– “I know Jim. He is a simple guy, he has a simple life. Maybe that's exactly what Freddie needs. Simplicity”_

 _“I hope Freddie can see that though” -_ Joe said truthfully; he understood what Phoebe meant. They really could not interfere in Freddie's decisions _– “He deserves simplicity” -_ he nodded securely _– “But honestly, I won’t pin all my hopes on something that can become how it all becomes in Freddie’s life. I just wish him to stop hurting himself”_

 _“It’s his decision to make all of this the same” -_ Phoebe argued _– “He's an adult and I think he knows what he wants”_

 _“I hope he really does” -_ Joe replied, turning his body to lean back on the parapet, catching the way Freddie stared at Jim. He could see, even by far, the look of his friend eyes, pure and sparkling; Joe knew that look, he had received that look once, years ago. Freddie was in _love_ and Joe felt happy for his friend. Maybe even Freddie did not know yet, or maybe he tried to deny it somehow, but Freddie was completely in love with Jim. And even if Joe still had his doubts about where that relationship might go and even though he did not want to settle expectations on those two down there, his chest was filled with hope for Freddie and Jim. He smiled lightly, before admitting _– “I can be pretty fine with things the way they are becoming now…”_

 _“The only thing we can do is waiting... wait and watch where everything will go, my friend” -_ Phoebe was also watching the couple with a smile on his face _– “We are not the main characters of this story”_

 _“I suppose you’re right” -_ Joe simply replied _\- “Let’s wait and watch”_

_._

_“Just loved this Fried Chicken finale!” – _Roger exclaimed, a cigarette hanging on his mouth as his smiled with amusement.

Brian guffaw, clapping his hands once and and leaning from his chair, in front of the remixing table, to turn the tape back a few seconds. Freddie's voice echoed again in the room, repeating the last line of the song they had just recorded. Queen was in the studio in London, finishing the last adjustments of _One Vision_ song. Everyone laughed again at the final part of the lyrics. It was always like they were all very young again, every time they got together to record. Between jokes and fights over the melody and lyrics, they always ended with something sensational and innovative on their hands. Just something really Queen.

 _“It’s hilarious!”_ – Brian said, and turned to Freddie, who just stood up from the sofa to extinguish his own cigarette at the ashtray next to the guitarrist – _“You were right, Fred. We are Queen, we can definitly make any line sounds great”_

 _“A bit cocky, Doctor Brian May” –_ Freddie joked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Brian gave him a simple shoulder-lift and a playful smile, which made Freddie, Roger and John laugh one more time - _“It was not my idea, though” -_ Freddie confessed at last with a small pull of his red lips.

 _“Whose was it?” –_ Roger asked, after taking a swig on his cigarette and exhaling the smoke in the air. Freddie chuckled in response. It had been Jim’s idea. Yes. He had invited the hairdresser to watch some recordings of the music on other occasions. In one of them, Freddie played with the words of the song while singing it, in a moment of recration; he yelled Fried Chicken jokingly. At that night, when he was alone with Jim, the Irishman had suggested that he should add it to the song. It sounded like a good idea to Freddie, and, aparently, his bandmates had approved it as well. But Freddie did not want to confess that to the other guys, at least not now.

_“It’s a secret, darling. If I tell you, I must kill you afterwards!”_

_“So I’m just fine without knowing it” -_ Roger joked back, rising from his chair and dousing his cigarette in the ashtray, which there was still a faint smoke from Freddie's one. The blonde stretched his arm’s muscles, which were aching slightly due countless drum playing sessions - _“Well, it’s late. Dominique is probably getting mad at home. I promised to take her to dinner tonight…”_

 _“You can still go…” -_ John said, checking his wrist watch _– “It’s just midnight”_

 _“Perfect time to have dinner!” -_ Freddie joked.

 _“Fuck off you both!” -_ Roger exclaimed, with an amused smile on the corner of his lips _– “I told her that today would be quick! It tuns out we’re here for twelve fucking hours!” -_ then he used his index finger to point to his friends _– “I’ll blame you guys for that!”_

 _“As you always do!” -_ Freddie leaned his back against the remix table, rolling his eyes, his arms crossing in front of his chest _– “I’m quite surprised she doesn't hate us yet”_

Roger showed him his middle finger in amusement as he took his jacket from one of the archairs. Brian finally got up from where he was still seated and also headed to where his coat was, before murmuring:

_“Well, I’m off too. My back sore…”_

_“You sounded just like my dad” –_ Freddie exclaimed – _“But he's twice your age, grampa”_ \- Brian also showed him the middle finger as he laughed. He and Roger said goodbye to the other two and took their leave, walking out of the studio, leaving only Freddie and John in the room.

They were silent for a moment. Freddie pulled his cigarette pack from the back pocket of his jeans along with a black lighter. Then he lit another cigarette, feeling the smoke warming his lungs before he exhaled it from his nose. He then looked at John, who simply seemed to have forgotten that the singer was still there as well. John was sitting on the same sofa Freddie had been before; his bass on his lap. He strummed the strings slowly, his gaze fixed on the chords his hand produced; a beat of a song not yet identified filled the absence of sound in the place.

John usually seemed to just leave for some moments to another world, so Freddie always thought. His friend was a quiet, reserved man, even more than any other member of Queen; in fact even more than anyone else Freddie knew. And when it came to music or just when he was with his bass, it seemed that that world dominated the other musician deeply and John simply went into a sort of ecstasy of notes and heavy beats that he played on his instrument. Not that Freddie disliked that fact. Not at all. John had always been very close to Freddie. Everyone in the band agreed that without John Deacon’s lull, _Queen_ would never have been _Queen_. John carried lightness, even though he often did not palpate or care to give much opinion on anything.

But Freddie knew John very well. Behind a seemingly apathetic aparence - at least that's what those _bloody_ cheap magazines used to say - John Deacon, like any great artist, was an intense man, with millions of ideas in his fascinating head; full of knowledge and creativity.

Freddie admired John, just as he admired Brian and Roger as well. But he could not deny that there was something in that quiet personality of the bassist that made the singer feel more comfortable talking about some subjects with him, rather than with the other two. Freddie could not explain _why_. Maybe it was just because John was a good listener, since he actually was a man of few words.

Something in Freddie's throat scratched and he took the cigarette back to his mouth. He felt, somehow, an anxiety growing inside him. It was as if he was about to ask something very important to an older brother:

_How do you say this word?_

_How do you punch someone?_

_How is it to have sex?_

Freddie supposed it might be the same feeling… the feeling of asking those questions to somebody who you trusted enough, somebody who would not judge you. Freddie had no older brother, but he was sure it would feel the same. And the funniest thing was that John was actually a few years younger than he was.

He sighed deeply, smoked again, before speaking, trying to sound casual:

 _“So…” -_ Freddie began, causing John to finally wake up from his trance; he stopped playing, finally facing his friend a few feet away from him, still standing _– “Will Veronica not be pissed of you being late?”_

 _“Nah, I told her I’ll be late…” -_ John simply replied. Freddie smiled slightly. The bassist noticed that his friend seemed to swallow hardly. The singer looked at his feet, turning his gaze to him after a few seconds. He opened his mouth, but then closed it without producing any sound.

John frowned, finding the other's behavior odd. Freddie looked embarrassed somehow. He noticed the frontman’s cheeks turning a little red as he opened and closed his mouth one more time. He was about to ask Freddie if there was something wrong, when the singer’s voice finally came out, cutting him off before he could actually say anything:

 _“Can I ask you something?”_ \- It sounded very low, almost like a whisper. But John had listened well. The bass player blinked once at his friend’s direction. It was as if that Freddie in front of him, that short-haired Freddie with a manly black mustache, had disapered for a instant, giving place to a another Freddie – a long-haired Freddie with a smooth and younger face. John had not seen that Freddie in a while. As time passed and they became older, John supposed that Freddie had learned how camouflage him. Fame and the innumerable experiences which they had gained years after years, made that Freddie hide inside himself. But John knew that Freddie and he knew him well. That Freddie was sensitive and insecure. That Freddie showed fears and afflictions, he was a vulnerable Freddie as any human being was, in certain situations. Many people would think that that Freddie no longer existed, that the new Freddie was now that astute man, strong enough to show no fear. But John knew, he always knew that that Freddie, the Freddie he'd met years ago, would never leave. And John liked that Freddie; that Freddie was human, he was a Freddie that only a few people could witness nowadays. This, in a way, made the bass player happy, since he himself seemed to be one of the few people to whom the old Freddie could appear. But he could not deny to be curious to know why that Freddie had resurfaced just at that very moment.

John analyzed him a few more seconds, before responding lightly, trying not to scare away the man in front of him; he really seemed to want to ask John something important, as if he really was distressed about something:

_“Sure, Fred”_

_“Do you…”_ \- Freddie started to say, staring at his feet once again, his face blushing a little more. He hardly looked like the amazing lead singer who had the ability to grow two meters higher in front of a crowd on a stage; right there he looked like just a normal man about to ask some kind of advice to one of his best friends _\-  “Do you… love Veronica?”_

John laughed, not really expecting that question. He imagined Freddie would ask anything, anything but not that.

 _“What kind of question is that?” –_ he asked back playfully. Freddie's face flushed even more, so John could see, even though the singer still had not met his eyes. John stopped laughing. Freddie was serious. He sighed again, wondering where Freddie really wanted to go with that - _“Well…” -_ he said and Freddie finally lifted his eyes to him again, waiting anxiously for the answer, exactly as a younger brother would do _– “I do”_

Freddie nodded. He then leaded his almost forgotten cigarette to his mouth again, looking a little more confident, as he realized that John had answered his question without further ado.

 _“Do you…” –_ he began again, but he stopped to moisten his lips, as he searched for better words to continue _– “Do you think you guys will be together forever?”_

John raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

 _“Okay, now you’re scaring me” -_ he murmured, taking the bass off his lap and resting it beside him on the sofa, he then leaned his body forward, leaning his arms on his knee to look better at the other man _– “Are you high?”_

 _“No, I’m not” -_ Freddie assured, letting a shy smile slip from his lips.

 _“Well, Fred” -_ John shrugged, feeling his own face blush at that moment. John was a shy person too and he really did not usually talk much about his personal life either, but that did not stop him from answering right away _\- “I believe we’ll be”_

 _“How do you know?” -_ Freddie did not want to sound urgent. He apparently failed quite a bit at this task.

 _“I just… know” – _John answered truthfully and watched Freddie nodding once more. The singer took a last smoke of his cigarette, finally slipping off the remix table to also leave it in the ashtray. John analyzed him carefully, still not understanding the meanings of those questions _\- “What is going on?”_

 _“Nothing_ ” - Freddie answered quickly, waving his hands in the air as if to simply leave the subject. He could still feel John's eyes on him, curious for some sort of explanation. Well, the truth was, Freddie could not explain it, could he? It was he who whished some sort of response. He could not even explain why he had started that conversation with John in the first place. There was a lot in his head, strange feelings he still could not understand.

He tried not to think about it in the last few days, diverting Joe's attention every time the American tried to question him about it. Not that he did not trust Joe. He trusted him very much. But, somehow, it seemed that just right _there_ with John he felt the urge to talk about it, or try to solve some of the millions of questions that were in his head. Perhaps, the fact that John had no idea about what was going on with him in the last few weeks was quite welcoming in this situation and the opinion of someone, outside his  routine, might bring something new to him. Or perhaps, because _John_ was _John_ and he was sensible and calm enough to simply just answer whatever Freddie wanted to know without much discussion.

Freddie could not know yet, but something inside him told him he should continue. Just talk, just keep going. Yes, maybe he might have to keep trying to unburden something with John, and maybe he could get some tip; anything in return, any advice, any light that might clear his mind a bit and give him new insights to the strange course that his life was taking right now.

Freddie breathed hard. He walked over to the nearest armchair next to where the other musician was sitting and let himself falling there. He chose not to look at John yet, leaving his eyes fixed on the ceiling of the studio, as he mumbled in a really low tone:

_“I’m just trying to figure love out, I guess”_

_“I see” –_ It was John's turn to nod now. Freddie looked tired. But John knew it was not because of the recording sessions. John knew that there were probably many things in the other man's mind at that moment. Did he want to talk about love? Had John really listened it right? Well, he knew love was a tricky thing for Freddie. Of course, none of them used to speak much about it. He knew Freddie was gay. They all had known for a long time. Freddie used to introduce his boyfriends to them. And John always watched quietly as expectations began to shine inside his friend's eyes at every new relationship he engaged. It was as if Freddie always expected something magical to happen. Time after time.

But John just knew it never happened. As a new boyfriend appered, as a new romance began, John watched from his spot, the singer always entering in a labyrinth where he never, _never_ , seemed to find where it ended. He felt sorry for Freddie. He could not say it aloud, of course; Freddie would be very angry, but John really did. And if Freddie was there, at that moment, wishing to talk about it all… Well, maybe John could try to help him a little, he did not know if he could, but he would do his best to try to help his friend, without any doubt.

 _“It’s not that easy though” -_ John finally commented, tossed the corner of his lips up, in a way that he thought it would be somehow conforting, trying to say with that, that he was willing to talk about anything Freddie wanted.

 _“What?”_ \- Freddie turned his attention to him once more, his brown eyes questioning.

_“To figure love out”_

_“But you have done it, haven’t you?”_

_“You see, Freddie” -_ John took a deep breath, trying to choose right words to begin with _– “I think love is a really complex thing only because there are many kinds of love…”_

Freddie's eyebrows arched and some expression wrinkles showed up on his forehead. Kinds of love, had John said?

_“What do you mean?”_

_“The ancient Greeks described some kinds of love, you know" -_ John started slowly, as if telling a story. In fact, he felt as if he were reading some kind of fairy tale to one of his children. But instead, in front of him, he had an adult man, yet with the same expression that Robert used to give to him, when the boy listened to some story he did not yet know, anxious and attentive to each word _. – “Seven kinds of love to be exact. Since the love you have for yourself to the love you feel for your parents, for your siblings, for your friends, for the society” –_ he made a small pause, just to swallow and keeped on _– “To them, all those were love. But today we describe them as different feelings: friendship, brotherhood, fraternity, kindness…” – _then he smiled _\- “But if you think about it, all of them are love, after all”_

 _“Sometimes it's hard to believe that you're an engineer”_ \- Freddie whispered and John shook his head, grinning. Of course Freddie was going to make a joke, wasn’t he? John saw Freddie bit his lower lip, as if absorbing that information and depositing it somewhere in his brilliant mind. He then raised his eyebrows at his friend, speaking slowly - _“What about the romantic love? –  _he cleared his throat, so that his voice would not fail; John's attentive gaze, though really cozy and friendly, still made him feel a bit embarrassed – “ _I mean, the love that we know as love”_

John seemed to think about that for a few seconds; his lips twitching as he gaze traveled across the studio.

 _“I think this is also complex” -_ he replied, looking back at Freddie, straightening himself on the couch, his back pressed against the backrest, and his left leg crossed over his right one _– “Let’s say romantic love in also something abstract, since you also have many kinds of romantic love too” -_ he started counting fingers _– “First love, platonic love,  passion love…”_

 _“Which one is the right love then?” -_ Freddie asked, this time without worrying about trying to disguise the urgency in voice.

 _“All of them are right” -_ John assured him, as if this was an incontestable truth _\- “People usually experience_ _all of them during their life time. But if you’re asking me about which ones are really significant in anybody’s life… I must say probably the love of your life and the love for you life”_

Again Freddie seemed to register that in his head as he was silent for a moment.

_“Are those not the same thing?”_

_“Not at all, my friend” -_ the bassist shook his head _– “You know, I don’t know how I got to know this” -_ he confessed as his face blushed once more, as if he were about to reveal a secret _– “I think maybe it was my grandmom that talked about it when I was a little boy... But from all the loves you might have in you’re life” -_ He then pointed at Freddie, certainty shone in his light small eyes – “ _Those two are the most important ones”_

 _“How are they?”  -_ Freddie felt an immense need to know. His throat dried up without explanation and his heart began to accelerate in his chest, he could even feel his hands begin to sweat in anticipation as if he were close to make a great discovery _– “How are they like?”_

 _“I can’t believe you’re asking me that!” -_ John guffawed and Freddie did not understand why. His head with his newly cut hair - he had abandoned the long hair of Live Aid - hung back as his chest rose and fell as he laughed; a scene that only a few could see from John Deacon _– “Freddie, you already described perfectly what one of them is to the whole world to understand it!” – _Freddie's eyes softened with realization as the melody of Love of My Love took over his head. John gave him a big smile, seeing that Freddie was beginning to understand, and continued in a calm voice, being watched mindfully by the the singer’s brown eyes _\- “The love of your life is your memorable love. It’s deep and sincere. It’s about someone that you’ll never forget. Someone that you really care about” - _Freddie felt something burn in his chest, something that seemed familiar with those words. John paused, filling the place with silence for a moment, but then continued _– “But it turns that, usually, you don’t stay with the love of your life” - _he shrugged, as if this time he did not know exactly why _– “I cannot say the reason, they can be innumerous, I suppose. But it’s not because you don't love that person anymore” – _he made sure to add _– “It’s just because something is not right about it or something went wrong. Something just happens and you need to let the love of your life just go” - _he took a deep breath, as if he thought about it _– “I don’t know, It’s just how life works”_

Freddie swallowed again, feeling a certain emptiness inside himself. Those words seemed real and alive in his ears. They were silent again. They did not have much to say about it. They knew. They both knew. They both knew the reason. No further explanation was needed.

 _“And the other one?” -_ The question came out very weak, but John could hear, he really could hear, a hint of hope there. He sighed, filling his lungs with air, before beginning to describe it to Freddie:

 _“The love for your life is your final love. It’s when you stop searching for love because you already found it” - _Freddie's eyes sparkled as he heard that. And he felt, that same emptiness, being filled with every new word that John continued to utter _– “The love for your life was born to be with you as you were born to be with it. It’s your true love, your real love” - _John's eyes defocused from Freddie’s and his face lit up; John seemed to have gone straight again into John's world, while he finished his speech with the softest tone that Freddie ever heard coming from him _– “It is the last person that you want to see before you go to sleep and the first person you want to see when you wake up. It’s something that works, just because it meant to be”_

Freddie felt as if _time_ had stopped; as if the earth had stopped spinning, as if the very Solar System, Milky Way, Universe, had simply stopped its orbits. He could even swear that his heart stopped beating, that he stopped breathing, that his brain had stopped working.

It was that, wasn’t it?

It was that he had wanted to hear during all his life, wasn’t it?

It was what he had been looking for all his life, wasn’t it?

The love for his life.

Suddenly everything came back; the Earth, the Universe, the beats of his heart…

He did not even know how long he had been just gone; he supposed it should have been for a long time, since John was looking at him with a worried expression.

Freddie cleared his throat, trying not to look as _stoned_ as he was by all of that. But he could not disguise that he still did not fully believe what he had heard. The love for his life. Could that be true? Did that really exist?

_“Is it this perfect?”_

_“I did not say it’s perfect, Freddie”_ \- John replied, relieved that Freddie had finally returned from wherever he went, inside his own thoughts – “ _Of course bad times can come, because life is still life, but when you have the love for your life by your side, you can face anything and you can deal with everything” - _Freddie still listened to him, still recorded all his words. John just kept going, just gave him as much information as he could; he really wanted that all that conversation could be of use to Freddie. He really wanted Freddie to understand all that – “ _There might be disagreements. But you don’t do anything to actually hurt and you always regret when you do something wrong”_

Freddie's brain kept working, so much, so intensely, that his head was beginning to ache.

Without hurting.

To face anything. 

To deal with everything

_“That cannot exist, Deaky” -_ Freddie said, feeling the saliva thicken in his mouth.

He looked at that Freddie, straight in his eyes; the insecure Freddie, the sensitive Freddie, the Freddie full of fears, was right in front of him again.

And John just smiled.

“ _When you find the love for your life, Freddie, you’ll understand. Everything will become light, everything will become easy. It’s like breathing. And you’ll know, you’ll know inside, that it will last forever” - _Freddie felt as if the power of those words penetrated his soul. It was a strange sensation, but at the same time, it was something incredible. John continued to watch him for a while, just observing his friend’s effort to try to assimilate all that conversation; then the bassist rised up, walking to Freddie’s direction and stood just in front of him – _“Come on, Roger is right. It’s late, we should go home” -_ he offered a hand to him, to which Freddie accepted to help himself to rise up.

 _“When do you know?” -_ Freddie asked. One last question _;_ and probably the most important so far _– “When do we know that we found the love for our life?”_

 _“We never have a right moment for this to happen” -_ John replied simply, walking to get his jacket, not only his, but also Freddie's which was just next to it _\- “Sometimes, the love for your life is just right there and you didn’t realize it yet” -_ he held out the frontman’s black leather jacket to the other man’s direction, giving him another small grin.

 _“Is Veronica the love for your life then?” - _Freddie smiled back at him. John could see that his appearance was changing; that long-haired Freddie was leaving, giving the place to that mustachioed Freddie. But the bass player could still notice that they both, the two _Freddies_ , were still there in front of him.

 _“You see, my friend. I’m a lucky man” -_ John confessed - “ _I found both of them, the love of my life and the love for my life, in Veronica. And this doesn’t happen often” – _he then laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder and told him with the greatest certainty that someone could show _– “You’ll find it, Freddie” -_ Freddie felt as if his whole body was completely warmed by a fire that he thought that it had faded inside him a long time ago. It was a good feeling; rejuvenating, full of brightness and freshness. It was hope _\- “I’m sure you will”_

_._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop drinking \- reference from one of Phoebe's books about the fact that Joe stopped drinking in the 80's.
> 
> Bruises \- also information from Phoebe's books. 
> 
> Robert \- one of John Deacon's children.
> 
> PS 1: Do you guys know who the love for Freddie's life might be? :P  
> 
> 
> I promise that in the next chapter we will have more Jim and Freddie's scenes!
> 
> PS 2: About the love of his life part, I confess it was very difficult to write about it. I think the story of Freddie Mercury is rather complicated and that everyone has an interpretation about it. As I said before, I'm not here to write bad things about any character, even though I have my opinions about all Freddie's lovers; bad opinions and good opinions.
> 
> So I chose to leave that particular part without any names and also, until now in my fic, Freddie still does not know that Jim might be the love for his life. It's up to interpretation. It's up to what everyone believes and I hope it looks good this way. ;D


	16. Hashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Finally I am posting another chapter! I'm sorry for the delay once again. I read a couple of fics too, and I know how bad it is to be waiting for posts when we like something we're reading. All of you always give me great feedbacks on my stories and I would really like to return them with more chapters to all of you. But unfortunately, lately I'm not able to write much. I have a lot of work to do right now and I'm not completely healthy yet. I'm really sorry.
> 
> I hope this chapter focused on Jim and Freddie can somehow compensate my absence. Leave me comments, please! They always make me happy!
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> Cat

 

Jim was not a well-mannered person. He didn't know good manners or how to behave at expensive restaurants and fancy events. Of course he wasn't a rude man either. Education is not just about having the knowledge of which fork to use for salad or fish, let alone how to properly handle a cup of tea or a glass of champagne. Jim had grown in a full house; his parents had little money and too many mouths to feed. None of his siblings could actually go to college. Whenever one of them was old enough to work on anything, they all took responsibility to help their parents with the bills.

His father was a baker and also had a small wood workshop in the back yard. All _Huttons_ had worked with any of these tasks when they were young. It was something like a family tradition, but his parents always supported any of their children who wanted to learn another job. And that was what happened to Jim. He became an apprentice hairdresser very early in a barber shop in downtown Carlow. He learned the profession well and did it with pleasure. Knowing how to do a great haircut was something that helped him a lot when he moved to London - after having some unsuccessful jobs, being a hairdresser had really given him some stability. He really liked that, though it wasn't exactly what he wanted for his life.

However, sometimes it was not possible to do what you really like in life. Survival is the first thing to aim above all and everything else that adulthood came to charge; regardless whatever you do for living - of course _that_ must be something worthy and correct - if it is possible to pay the rent, pay bills, be able to make purchases in the supermarket, that is more than enough. And Jim could say that he was successful at that. He didn't depend on anyone for living and he was fine with it. He was dignified, he lived his life right, and he was hardworking; a typical low-middle-class man who supported himself but was unable to squander or flaunt.

Jim never wanted a luxury life, probably because he never thought he might ever have one. It was definitely something that was completely out of his dreams even when he was a child.

So why worry about good manners beyond what was really needed?

In the world Jim was used to, greeting  everyone, chewing with his mouth shut and do not put his elbows on the table were just enough to be judge as polite –   _And let’s agree, it really is_ – So, why did people invent even more rules of etiquette that will hinder rather than help? In Jim's opinion, people should worry more about being good to each other, respectable, generous and definitely not wasting time noticing if someone did not know how to use a napkin correctly - _Yes, Jim came to discover that this existed!_

The truth was that Jim had never _cared_ about any of that etiquette _things_. He had always been certain that he had received the best education from his parents and old siblings; he knew that their knowledge of honesty and kindness were far better than any manners rule they could not know.

And that never bothered him.

Well, at least not until _that_ evening.

And the funniest thing about it was that what bothered him wasn't that _fancy_ at all.

He had already seen _them_ , of course. He used to see _them_ in restaurant of the hotel that he worked all the time. He had seen his neighbors — or rather Mrs. Taverner's neighbors — always use _them_ when cooking or eating in the small garden of their home, especially to enjoy the summer sun; Jim had even seen them on television in some commercial. But he never, _never_ , used _them_.

And why did he never use _them_?

Because he never had to.

Until that night.

 

.

 

_Hours earlier, Jim's eyes widened as the waiters came to the table with the orders._

_He had seen that kind of food before. It looked compact and juicy. It was made of fish and seaweed, he knew it._

_He watched as everyone was getting their plates, at the table were already well-known people, Mary and her boyfriend, Phoebe, Joe and Paul Prenter - whom Jim had known already, but had not seen for a while - and a couple of others he had only had been introduced that night. Freddie was by his side, chattering about Queen's new album and about a new tour he wanted to plan for next summer with his bandmates._

_Jim watched them everyone, with the exception of Freddie who kept talking nonstop - picking up those chopsticks in their hands. They began to eat while listening to the singer. Jim looked down at his plate and his own chopsticks beside it. My God, how the hell would he do that?_

_Suddenly, he felt a pair of eyes on his face and soon he identified who was watching him from a distance. Paul Prenter regarded him with an expression that the hairdresser could only call mocked._

_For the first time since dating Freddie, or rather, for the first time in his life, he felt somehow ashamed of himself. For the first time he wished he wasn't there._ _He wished he was in his rented room in Mrs Taverner's loft in the London suburbs, eating his boiled potatoes and second-hand meat._

_Paul's eyes judging him from across the table confirmed what he had long known. He didn't belong in that world. He belonged to the world of hardworking people who sweated to live every month, he belonged to the world that when something was broken, he must try to fix it by his own because he couldn't afford to buy a new thing, he belonged to the world that he should know very well how much he had in his wallet to do not risk having no money to return home._

_ Screw it!_ _\- he thought._

_Jim knew where he came from and he did not need to be ashamed of it! Damm Paul Prenter and his judgments! He didn't know how to eat with those chopsticks and wasn't going to give Paul Prenter any satisfaction to see him fail in that task. Jim could be many things, but stupid he was not! He didn't belong in that world, right? So he would eat the way people eat in his world! With fork and knife, and screw whoever cared about that._

_Jim turned to a nearby waiter with the most decisive expression on his face as he could still feel Paul's gaze on him._

_He was going to order his fork and knife and eat that food any way he wanted. Fuck it!_

_“All right, how am I supposed to eat this?” - Freddie spoke before Jim could say anything. Jim turned to his lover and saw him look at his own plate, finally stopping chattering about his topics. The singer then turned to the waiter – “Can you get me cutlery, please?” - he then turned to Jim with a small smile – “Would you like it too, darling?” - Jim just nodded, trying to cover his surprise._

_As soon as the waiter returned, Freddie took his fork and knife in his hands, going back to talking about something else that Jim couldn't pay attention to. He was astonished; he just watched his boyfriend eat for a moment before grabbing his own cutlery. The Irishman glanced at Paul, who this time looked at him with an indefinable expression._

_When Jim turned his attention to Freddie again, the singer winked at him without anyone actually noticing it. J_ _im gave him a small smile back, finally starting to enjoy his dinner._

 

.

 

And now, there he was; that little event had not left his mind all night. Jim was in the Garden Lodge kitchen - since the house was almost ready, Freddie had begun to prefer standing there rather than in his Stanfford Terrace flat whenever he was in London. They had returned from dinner a few hours before and, by the silence that took over the mansion’s rooms, Jim supposed that everyone in the house was sleeping. In fact, Jim had left a sleepy Freddie on his queen’s size bed and had gone into the kitchen to make himself some tea after rolling over for hours with thoughts that would not let him rest.

He was now staring at a drawer that he had just opened. He was looking for a spoon to stir his ready-made lemon balm tea and encountered with what had disturbed his dinner and his head.

Those _damm_ chopsticks.

He took them in his hands and analyzed them for a moment. Freddie had a nice set of those inside that drawer - they were very beautiful, black and decorated with red flowers design, something really like Freddie’s taste, Jim noticed, and his heart squirmed a little in his chest. That had just confirmed all the suspicions the hairdresser had in his head.

The singer had really done that for him that night.

Freddie knew how to use those things.

Freddie was from that world.

Jim felt that strange feeling again; it was that same embarrassment that was not welcome inside his body, the same embarrassment he had felt at dinner.

The Irishman took the chopsticks, bringing them to the table with his teacup and a little spoon. He sat down at a chair and took a deep breath, trying to put the chopsticks between his hand, as the others had done that night. One of them fell to the table on the first try. He tried it again and this time they seemed to fit together. A fruit basket was on the table with bananas, red apples and grapes. Grapes, hm, maybe?

He sorted some grapes and set them on the table.

 _Oh god, what was he doing_?

He tried to pick a grape with the chopsticks. The fruit slipped and rolled to the floor. Jim followed it with eyes, defeated. When the grape finally stopped, it was between two bare feet at the kitchen entrance.

 _“What are you doing, darling?”_ \- Freddie asked with raised eyebrows; unlike other times, Freddie was not wearing one of his robes, but a Adidas black sweatpants; his chest was bared.

 _“Nothing”_ \- Jim answered as he felt his face turn red. Caught in the act. Shit! He rested his chopsticks slowly on the table, wishing Freddie wasn't standing there for long. The barber took his cup of tea and mouthed it clumsily, trying to hide his embarrassment of being caught that way – _“Just couldn’t sleep, so I made some tea”_

 _“Tea? Lovely!” -_ Freddie finally entered the kitchen _– “Is there more? I’d like some”_

 _“Yes, it's on the stove” -_ Jim started to get up, but the singer passed by him, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him where he was.

_“I’ll get it, dear”_

Jim watched Freddie pour himself some hot tea and then sit at the table in front of him. Freddie sipped his glass and smiled with satisfaction:

 _“Delicious!” -_ Jim smiled back at him as soon he heard it, trying not to look as embarrassed as he still was. They were silent for a moment, just sipping their drinks casually. It was not an uncomfortable silence though, far from it. It was a comforting silence, that kind of silence that people can actually enjoy when they are with a great company. The kitchen light was dim and a fresh wind was coming through one of the open windows reaching them softly. Freddie watched his lover across the table; Jim seemed to avoid staring back at him – _“What is it?” –_ Jim finally looked at him but didn't answer. He was staring into Freddie's brown eyes shining at him just like two beautiful gems, two brown jaspers watching him – _“You can tell me, Jim. Come on” –_ the singer said softly.

 _“It’s… stupid”_ \- Jim shook his head. It was stupid, wasn't it? Why talk about those things? he would be even more embarrassed if he outsourced his idiot thoughts to his boyfriend, right? Now it was Freddie's turn not to answer. He just kept looking at Jim, and the hairdresser knew very well what that meant. He was going to have to talk, Freddie was like that. He wouldn't leave him alone until they talked about it. Jim then sighed. Picking up the sticks and showing them to the frontman and speaking quietly, his face still a little flushed – _“I know what you did tonight, babe”_

_“I didn’t do anything”_

Jim raised his eyebrows, laughing slightly. Of course Freddie would deny it, wouldn't he?

 _“You know how to use them”_ \- Jim sentenced, making his boyfriend realize it was no use denying his actions. Jim knew Freddie had done that for him. That was an unquestionable fact. Freddie was from that world. From the world where people ate foreign foods and _knew_ how to eat them. Freddie was from the _chopstick_ world. Jim was not.

Freddie sighed and nodded. He took another sip of his tea, bracing his bare back on the back of the solid-wood chair and crossing one leg over the other.

 _“Are you mad?” -_ The singer asked with a wobbly expression, fearing that Jim might have misunderstood his action and interpreted it wrong.

 _“No, I’m not mad”_ \- Jim laughed slightly again, copying the other's move and also resting his back on the seat – _“I just… I just didn't want to embarrass you. I really don't know how to use them” –_ he shrugged looking a little ashamed to confess the last part _\- “In fact, I had never eaten Japanese food before”_

 _“Embarrass me?” -_ Freddie frowned. He was right after all. Jim had misunderstood – _“What the hell are you talking about?”_

Jim scratched his head in a visibly uncomfortable motion.

 _“I don’t know”_ – he started, uncertain – _“I mean, is it not a little disconcerting for you, in front of your friends, that I didn't know how to…?”_

 _“Oh, please, stop it”_ \- Freddie demanded, but softly. Jim stopped talking right way – _“I only did that because I already know you well. I know you would be more comfortable, darling. That’s just it” -_ Jim's eyes widened. He was sometimes amazed at how straightforward Freddie could be. The musician stared at him, as if to restate what he had just said and looked a bit offended – _“Do you really think I give a damm if you know how to use hashi or not?”_

Jim swallowed hard; he could not answer it. Now, he really was embarrassed. Ashamed of himself for thinking those things. Of himself and Freddie. That was true, he already knew Freddie well; and he knew that the singer didn't really care about those things. They had talked many times about their lives before. Freddie knew where Jim had come from, how Jim lived, and never, never seemed to care about that. Freddie had never judged him, never reprimanded him. Freddie had simply accepted him the way Jim was. _Oh boy_ , how embarrassed Jim was now. And what how ironic it was! Before he was ashamed to be supposedly a shame to the singer. Now he was ashamed that of simply hypothesizing that.

_“I know you don’t”_

_“Good you know that”_ \- Freddie uncrossed his legs, leaning toward the table to reach one of Jim's hands, and rested one of his own on the hairdresser’s – _“I would never be ashamed of you and you also should not be ashamed of yourself”_ \- Freddie told him, abandoning his serious expression and smiling openly under his dark mustache, his red lips extending to reveal his large teeth; that kind of smile that only special people could see from Freddie Mercury. Jim intertwined their fingers, the warmth of the singer's hand warming his palm – _“You know, I was ashamed of myself before. I was ashamed of where I was born, where I came from, the culture that was raised in. I was young and I used to omit many things about my early life to try to fit better in places”_ \- Freddie told Jim slowly as they stared at each other without blinking. That confession of Freddie was something new. For both of them; and _something_ happened to them both at the same time. Their muscles relaxed and they felt as if something very heavy had been taken out from their shoulders. It was as if Freddie was relieved to unburden it and Jim was relieved to hear it. Freddie moistened his lips before continuing _– “Nowadays I see how stupid I was. Denying who I was, denying what made me be who I am. This is ridiculous” -_ Freddie lightly squeezed Jim's hand, their fingers fit perfectly as they were made for each other – _“Never think that way, Jim. What makes you special is that you are exactly who you are and just the way you are”_ \- Freddie stopped for a second as he reflected on thoughts about all of that. That was the absolute _truth_. That was exactly what he thought of Jim. _His Jim_. And he would say exactly that to the man in front of him - _“That's what makes you special to me, darling. Because you are you”_

Jim's heart pounded in his chest. He tugged his boyfriend by the hand still holding his, causing Freddie to get up and circle the table to sit on his lap. He linked his mouth with singer’s without thinking twice, kissing him with passion and trying to tell him in that act how much Freddie’s words meant to him. And Freddie corresponded him the same way, his mouth kissed the other man's with satisfaction, his hands roaming his brown hair as he felt the Irishman's warm hands on his naked back.

 _“I told you it was a stupid thing_ ” – Jim spoke as they parted, feeling Freddie's slender body over his, the weight and the warmth of his lover comforted him in a fascinating way – _“I’m sorry, I don’t even know where it came from”_

 _“I hope that it doesn’t happen again” -_ Freddie replied, stroking the hairdresser's face.

 _“I’ll try” -_ Jim assured him. He would really try. But unfortunately there were feelings he could not control. But he would do his best now that he was really sure Freddie didn't care about any of that. Jim then took one hand off the other's skin, and took something from the table in front of them. It was the sticks again – _“How did you say they called?” -_ He asked with a smile, trying to show the other that it wouldn't bother him anymore.

_“ Hashi in Japonese. They use it in Asia in general. But in India, they have a habit of eating with their hand, you know? My parents usually eat with their hands and that’s not a big deal at all”_

_“It’s much easier than these for sure” - _Jim exclaimed raising the _hashi_ in his hand – _“Can you… can you teach me?”_

_“Teach you what?”_

Jim turned blushed once more; but this time he did not look away from the singer. In fact, he smiled openly before clarifying:

 _“How to eat with hashi”_ – he laughed - _“I’m pretty curious now. I can’t even hold them”_

Freddie guffawed.

 _“Of course I’ll teach you if you want, darling”_ \- He got up, going to one of the drawers and picking up another couple chopsticks. He then took the chair that had been sitting before, bringing it closer to Jim. He took his cup and drunk another big sip of his tea, and sited down once more – _“All right. I’m not so good at it either. I’ve learned in Japan with japanese friends. I love Japan, did you know it? I've been there a few times during tours. The Japanese love Queen and we definitively love them” -_ Freddie spoke as he positioned the chopsticks correctly on his fingers – _“Here, try to hold them this way, my dear” -_ Jim watched the fingers position Freddie showed him and tried to copy it with his own hashi. Freddie then reached the Irishman's fingers and gently helped to better position the chopsticks between them.– _“Here, this finger goes here and this one right there”_ \- Jim listened intently, watching and trying to keep in his memory that position his hand was making – _“There you go... now, if you move like this”  -_ he moved Jim's fingers slowly – _“The hashi will open and close and you can get things this way” – _the singer helped the hairdresser make the move a few times until he could reproduce the action almost perfectly – _“Yes, Jim. That’s it!”_

 _“It’s kind of hard” -_ Jim confessed, waving his hand the way Freddie had taught and watching the sticks move almost as it should be.

 _“It is. But it gets easier with time_ ” - Freddie picked up his chopsticks again and began to move them as well, while Jim watched him closely and imitating him – _“Now, try to get this grape”_ \- He pointed to one of the grapes still resting on the table. Jim tried, but it slipped – _“It’s ok. Grapes are hard, they are round and slippery. But if you can grip a grape, you can grip anything, right?” -_ Jim laughed. Freddie was a great teacher after all. He was patient and encouraging. The Irishman couldn't help but think about how lovely the musician was as giving him that class. Freddie was just adorable. Jim tried again, and in a slightly awkward manner, managed to pick up the fruit – _“Great, darling! Look at it! You did it!”_ \- Jim smiled, dropping the grape on the table and picking it up again with his chopstick – _“Yes! You got it! You’re such a good learner. It took me days to be able to hold anything!”_

Jim laughed again. He rested his chopstick on the table once more and looked at the other one who looked extremely excited.

 _“Thank you”_ \- he said sincerely, his meek eyes roaming the other's face in adoration. Of course he wasn't just talking about chopsticks. Of course, that thank you wasn't just for what Freddie had done at dinner, for saying those words just moments ago, or for teaching her something new right now. That was a thank you for the simple fact that Freddie was just Freddie. And somehow Jim knew that the singer had understood with just what he meant. Because once again, he gave him that wide, toothy grin that only Freddie Mercury could give.

 _“You know…”_ \- Freddie started with his voice calm and soft, as if singing, Jim had to hold back not to close his eyes to just enjoy that sound – _“The Japanese believe that if someone can catch a fly with hashi, this person can do anything”_

_“That sounds great! Did you learn it in Japan too?”_

_“No, I saw in Karate Kid. It was on TV one day and I watched it with Joe”_

Both men would burst out laughing. They tried to muffle the sounds with their hands. They didn't want to wake up the others spleeping in the house.

But it was inevitable not to laugh. They loved that. Those moments, full of jokes and laughter and careless that they shared, were truly wonderful.

 _“You’re unbelievable, sweetheart” -_ Jim spoke between laughs, tears coming out of his eyes – _“But it sounds pretty cool… and difficult! I think I'll have to train hard to achieve that!”_

Freddie was still laughing when he placed, one more time, his hands on the other's face and gave him a linger peck.

 _“I think you can do anything already” -_ He wiped the tears of laughter off the barber’s face with his thumbs. Jim was staring at him with an amused look, his smile plastered under his own brown mustache. That sight made Freddie's body tingle and he wished inwardly that he would never, never, forget how Jim's face looked like. How it was like to look at him. Something in his head was accentuated and he could hear, deep in his thoughts, a little voice saying really low:

_ The last person you want to see before you sleep. The first person you want to see when you wake up. _

Freddie froze, looking at Jim with his own hands framing his handsome face.

Once again his brain filled with thoughts. Once again he stopped in time, sinking into that position, he had no idea how long he had been that way. Speachless. Inert.

 _“Honey?”_ \- Jim's voice woke him up and Freddie finally returned, watching that the other one looked quite worried – _“What is it? What are you thinking?”_

 _“Nothing” -_ Freddie lied, taking his hands off the Irishman's face slowly. He smiled slightly at him, trying to disguise his scared face – _“It’s just…”_ \- he tried, trying to search for something, anything in his mind – _“I want to take you to Japan someday”_

Jim frowned.

_“Me? In Japan?”_

_“Why not?”_ \- Freddie asked – _“I’m sure you would love it”_

Jim laughed softly once more.

 _“All right”_ \- Jim nodded a little unsure. Freddie could be unpredictable sometimes; and Jim already knew that side of his lover too. The vocalist had seemed distant moments before and Jim had not quite understood where he was inside his own mind; and now he said he would take him to Japan. Him in Japan? Well, he never thought he was going to Germany, and now he knew the center of Munich almost as well as the center of London or Carlow. Oh god! What would he do with Freddie? – _“If you say I'll like it, there's no way I can't believe it”_

_“I am serious, Jim. I’d love to be there with you”_

That one was no lie. Not at all.

 _“I’d love to be anywhere with you, Freddie” -_ They smile at the same time, both satisfied with that mutuality. Jim took a hand to his face and caressed it, then lowered to the musician’s hairy chest. Freddie felt his whole body burn, like a burning flame, a livid ember, just with that simple touch. Only Jim could do that to him. Only Jim could.

_“I know exactly where you could be with me right now”_

_“Oh really? Where?” -_ a mischievous smile.

 _“Don’t you have any idea, darling?” -_ One eyebrow raised. All confused thoughts silenced. He just stopped thinking. He stopped trying to be rational and trying to understand himself. There was no room for those confused thoughts in his head as he was about to have Jim for himself. Once again. No room. Just Jim.

Well, maybe that was the answer to those bloody thoughts of Freddie. The answer to all his questions.

_When? How? Who?_

The answer had been there for some time, dear Freddie. He just couldn't see it clearly yet. Maybe he wasn't ready to see clearly yet. Maybe there was still a long way to go. Lots to clarify. To himself. To others.

 _“I might have. Will you teach me something new there too?” –_ Oh boy, Freddie loved _naughty_ Jim. No room. Just Jim. The answer, he still could not see yet.

The other pair of his chopstick.

He just needed to catch a fly with Jim; and then they could do anything.

Create their own world where there were no rules of manners, social abyss, shame or anything else.

They just needed to catch that fly that Mr Miyagi had said in the movie, right?

They just nedeed to catch it together.

_“Only if you teach me some new things as well”_

Well, how quickly they got to this somewhere was surprising.

And Phoebe got a bit intrigued, when he woke up the next day, and found two half-full cups with cold tea on the table, grapes scattered around the kitchen and two pairs of hashi.

 

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Taverner's neighbors \- they were from Asia in my mind. :P
> 
> Brown Jasper \- A brown colored gemstone.
> 
> Mr Miyagi \- Japanese character from Karate Kid (1984)
> 
> .
> 
> Guys, the facts of this chapter are all from my imagination. I have no information if Freddie or Jim could use chopsticks.


	17. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say but apologize. I hope you really forgive me for taking so long. I'm really doing my best, but things aren't easy for me right now.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy and comment! 
> 
> Your comments really make me very happy!
> 
> I'll try to come back as soon as I can!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Cat

 

 _“Seriously, Freddie! For the love of God! Sometimes I want to strangle you!” -_ Joe muttered under his breath. Not just for being slightly annoyed by the whole situation, but also because of the tremendous effort he was making at the moment. His face was red, he was breathing hard, and his glasses were about to fall, balancing just God knew how, on the tip of his nose.

 _“It was you who wanted to carry me! I already told you I can fucking walk!” -_ Freddie answered shrilly, though his face contradicted the last sentence. His expression was pained as he also tried to find some kind of balance between his hand that surrounded the American's neck and grabbed the other man’s shirt and the other hand that supported his leg as he limped, _no,_ trotted to the doorway of his apartment in Munich - _"You basically live in those bloody gyms! I thought you were strong!”_

_“You’re fucking heavy! I’m not this strong!”_

_“Are you calling me fat, Liza?!” -_ The musician asked offended, almost loosing his pace; if it wasn't for Joe, they would both be on the floor right now.

 _“For Heaven’s sake!”_ \- Joe rolled his eyes, internally thanking for finally getting to the door _– “Keys!”_

_“Where are yours, hun!? You always forget them! One day you’ll stay outside and then you’ll learn not to…”_

_“Freddie!” -_ the other man exclaimed incredulously. Oh really? Would Freddie start with that in there? It could only be a joke. Even after all those years, Freddie still managed to surprise him sometimes.

 _“In my pocket” -_ he snorted grudgingly and soon Joe took the keys from there. He managed to leave the singer on the couch, to which Freddie blurted a grunt out, before starting unbuttoning his jeans - _“I will need help here, please”_ \- Freddie confessed groaning in pain.

Joe didn't complain about that and starded to help his friend to undress. He knew Freddie was playing tough all the way from _Frisco_ to the cab; he also pretended that everything was fine all the way home; Freddie didn't like to show weakness at any level, but Joe knew Freddie well - even with his eventually little surprises - and he was pretty aware the musician was not well.

Joe carried him - or at least tried - to the door, with Freddie mumbling, at every clumsy step, about him not being an invalid and that he could walk alone. Well, apparently only there, inside his own home, the singer finally seemed to give up and surrender to the discomfort he was feeling.

Freddie Mercury was a _strong_ man, no doubt about that.

 _"Oh! That doesn't look good, Melina!”_ \- Joe said concerned, as Freddie clumsily kicked his jeans to the floor – _“Look at the size of your knee! It's swollen!_

 _“Shit!” –_ Freddie grunted as he tried to move it. It hurt, it hurt a lot.

 _“I'll call Doctor Metzger!”_ \- the American exclaimed, but before he could get to the phone Freddie stopped him.

 _“No need, I’m fine”_ \- Joe gave him a mortifying look – _“Liza, he must be sleeping by now, it's late!”_ – he sighed them, managing to carry his injured leg and laid it on the coffe table in front of him - _“Besides it’s not broken. Believe me, I would know, I've broken this same leg before, remember? Doctor Metzger himself said it would never be the same again, I think I just fell down awkwardly…”_

_“Freddie…”_

_“Joe, please… just… leave it...”_ \- the vocalist snorted, letting his head rest on the back of the couch. He was upset, Joe knew it. And it wasn't just because of his leg.

It was only about twenty minutes since they had left _Frisco_. It was a special night; Peter Ambacher had invited many friends to watch his new show at the nightclub as Miss Piggy. However at one point when Joe had came from the restroom, he found Freddie surrounded by people around him.

Freddie had fallen, so he heard everyone saying, and apparently he had fallen on his bad leg.

_Why? How?_

Well, Freddie didn’t want to explain. He just wanted to leave. So he politely rejecting the help of many people in the club, he left with Joe, doing his best not to limp and to leave the place in a dignified way, at least in his own _weird_ concept.

He wouldn't be carried, not until he got home. That was Freddie Mercury’s _weird_ concept.

Joe sighed defeated.

_“I’ll bring some ice then”_

Freddie agreed and in just a few minutes was holding an ice pack over his leg.

Joe watched him, seated by his side on the couch. The singer’s hand covered the ice he applied himself to his red knee, but his gaze was lost in a corner of the living room. He was quiet, very quiet for someone who was probably in pain. Freddie was not someone who used to complain, far from it, but normally even an uncomfortable expression could be seen on his face when it came to a bruise; well, to Joe, apparently he seemed to have forgotten about his leg. He seemed to be holding the ice automatically, even robotically, totally lost in his thougths. Very very, strange.

 _“Does it hurt, Freddie?”_ \- It took Freddie a few seconds to notice that Joe had spoken to him.

 _“Just a bit, darling. I think it’ll be ok” –_ he _auto-answered_ and then rambled again. It had been days, no, weeks since Freddie had been like that. Thoughtful, far away in daydreams. Joe had already given countless opportunities for Freddie to open up with him. But everytime, _everytime_ , the singer dodged. Joe didn't quite understand why; he tried to give his friend time, maybe he had to put his head in place before finally spilling over what plagued him. But it had been a long time, and no conversation, no word. Freddie wasn't like that and that was worrying Joe.

_“What happenned?”_

_“Nothing, dear”_

_“Freddie, look at me” -_ Freddie seemed to wake up. He stared at his friend beside him, his brown eyes finding Joe with a serious and determined expression – _“Just tell me what happened… please”_

The musician stared at him for a moments, Joe noted that he open and close his mouth a  few times. It was as if he didn't know what to say. It was as if he didn't know how to begin.

Freddie Mercury was strong, Freddie Mercury had his weird concepts...

But there was a point that not even Freddie Mercury could hold for so long.

_“Why did you break up with me, Joe?”_

This was not what Joe was expecting.

That took him by surprise.

He couldn't help widening his eyes and gasp loudly.

 _“What!?” -_ he asked incredulously. Freddie's gaze was fixed on him. He didn't even blink. He was serious _\-  “Freddie, what are you talking a…?”_

 _“Why?” -_ Freddie ignored his friend's reaction. He ignored the visible discomfort, ignored the grief of that question that had been plaguing him for days. He needed to ask. He needed to know – _“Did you not love me anymore?”_

It had been a long time, a long time since Joe had thought of it, thought about him and Freddie… Them… as a couple.

Of course he had memories, and good memories, of his time with the singer. A few years has passed…but he had not forgotten. Joe had not forgotten anything. There was no way to _forget_ Freddie Mercury.

Freddie was a great partner. Attentive, romantic. He was funny, warm... Joe remembered these things. He remembered the laughs, he remembered the adventures... He remembered happy times ... enjoyed and shared.

But he could not deny that these were distant memories. Memories kept in a beautifully decorated box, entwined with a delicated red bow, placed somewhere inside his mind.

It was a special box, very special. But a box that would remain closed. A box that Joe himself, had closed... forever.

Joe sighed. He didn't realize how long he had been silent analyzing the singer's staring eyes in front of him; Freddie kept the ice on his leg in a gawky way, seeming not to care if he was setting the cool bag on the right spot of pain. Freddie seemed to have forgotten the pain. Or at least of _that_ pain. The singer's attention was now focused on something else. On answers. On understanding. Understanding which apparently only Joe could offer him at the moment.

The American cleared his throat, finally understanding why Freddie had been acting weird for so long. That was it. The reason Freddie was weird for weeks. It was just a question. A question he wanted to ask. But it wasn't any question, was it? That was a question that would dig into the past. That would poke healed wounds for years. It was a difficult but necessary question. A question that needed to be asked. That needed to be asked to Joe.

Joe. He probably didn't know that the answer he would give would change the course of life of one of the greatest idols of all times. Freddie was dear, known, admired at that time he was living in. But _the_ Freddie Mercury that everyone admires in our days, this Freddie Mercury God, the legend, Joe wouldn't never know…

Joe would never have the knowloge that that man in front of him would be one of the immortal artists who would be remembered by centuries of human society.

In front of Joe was his best friend. In front of Joe was one of the dearest people in his life. In front of Joe was a former lover who wanted answers. Answer about their failed relationship. Answers about why it had not been what it should have been. Why was it not what they wanted.? It ended. That simple. Why? Freddie thought it was for lack of love? No, Freddie was wrong. And he needed to know that he was wrong.

_“I never stopped loving you, Freddie”_

It was true. That's what Freddie needed to know.

Joe's stomach churned as Freddie blinked slowly, trying to assimilate the American’s answer. That was akward. It was weird. Talking about them. It was totally weird. But Joe held on. Freddie _needed_ that. He needed to and Joe would be there for him. He always had been.

_“You didn’t?”_

_“No”_ \- he confirmed firmly as he watched the other man's brown eyes twinkle, twinkling with the dim light of the living room lamp – _“I still loved you when we broke up. And I still love you until today, although…” -_ he swallowed, smiling slightly, letting the whole truth go out with his words _\- “… it’s different now. It’s more like a fraternal love, I suppose…” -_ he laughed awkwardly, adjusting his glasses on his long nose.

Freddie was silent for a while, just like a statue, sitting with underwear on the couch; his leg extended on the coffee table.

_“So why did you do that?”_

Joe sighed once more. The truth. Freddie wanted the truth. Freddie had been wanting _it_ for weeks. Joe looked at his hands, unable to meet his friend's eyes anymore. He never really thought he ever had to talk about that with Freddie. Well, this day had come. Out of the blue. It was _that_ day.

And he was the one who had asked Freddie to open with him. _Oh, boy!_

 _“Because it was the right decision to make_ ” - he started, still not facing the other man beside him – _“It was hard, It hurt a lot… but it was the right decision…” -_ he took a deep breath, feeling his eyes stinging and watering; he blinked, before finally looking at Freddie _._ Light eyes staring at the brown ones _– “ And now, after all that, I see that It was the best decision I ever made”_

The truth. Freddie wanted the truth. For weeks he wanted to ask Joe about the truth. That was the truth, Freddie. Joe would tell him right now; open chest, feelings from within:

 _“We would never be here today if I didn't do that, Freddie. We would never be friends again”_ \- Joe spoke calmly. One word at time. As if explaining homework to a child. Freddie needed to understand that. He needed – _“We would end up worse. Worse than just a few years without talking, as it happened. We would never have contact again” - _he reminded him. Yes, they spent years without talking after they broke up, until Freddie called him one night. Talking to him without remorse, without fear. Only caring and friendly. Asking him to work for him one night as a cook, something that after a while - _oh, bloody destiny_ \- made him become his former lover's personal assistant _– “I was convinced of it, Melina. Convinced that we’d never talk to each other again if we didn’t break up at that moment”_ \- Freddie's eyes watered too. Each word said by Joe was being digested calmly; some hurt, they did, but he would digest, he would carve with patience; the ice on his leg almost numb his skin. Forgotten. But he would hear, he would digest – _“So I decided to end it before it was too late, if I didn't do that we would hurt ourselves more, we would hurt ourselves so bad that…_ ” -  he paused; a tear fell under Joe's glasses, bright until it hit his chin. That hurt. It hurt to say those words to Freddie. That was the day of truth. That was the day he would finally give Freddie the truth. – _“…I felt that I should make a decision. And I made it. I knew it”_ \- he pointed to his chest, to his heart – _“Deep here, I knew that one day we could be friends again… and… and I was right” -_ and he smiled, his hand wiping the tear that fell down his face. Silence for a moment. Freddie didn't blink. Freddie didn't breathe. Joe needed to finish _– “I wouldn't trade what we have today for anything, Freddie”_ \- he murmured, his grin widening. His hands went to his friend's leg, grabbing the ice bag from his leg before the cold hurt Freddie’s skin - _“I know it may sound weird, but today I'm so glad we didn't work out as a couple” -_ Joe then began to apply the ice himself to the singer's leg, his smile did not leave his face _– “Because we are perfect as friends”_

Freddie finally let out his breath; No, he hadn't noticed that he had been holding it for so long as he listened to his friend's entire narrative. He answered nothing. Her gaze went to her leg, watching Joe's hand on the ice bag. Nothing needs to be said. Nothing but the truth.

 _“Winnie”_ – he whispered after a while - _“That’s what happened tonight_ _”_

_“Did Winnie do this to you?!”_

_“No, No! He didn’t do anything!” -_  Freddie quickly assured as he found the American's horror expression when he looked back at him – _“I saw him there tonight”_ – he started to explain – _“I didn't want to talk to him. I felt…” -_ He stopped, trying to look up the words better. His face flushed _\- “I don’t know what I felt to be honest…” -_  he laughed weakly, feeling the weight of that statement. He really didn't know. It was something strange. But he needed to tell Joe. After all he had told him minutos before, it was the least he could do. Tell him the truth – _“He came to me, and I don't know what happened. I dodged and when I realized I was on the floor” -_ Yes, that was exactly what had happened; he looked away from Joe, embarrassed - “ _He looked worried… Winnie, he… he helped me up, he offered help, said I could rest at his home. But I…”_ \- Now was the time. To tell the truth, to say what was on his mind for so long – _“I did not want to go with him… I just wanted to leave…I… ”_

 _“I understand, Melina” -_ Joe cut him off, realizing that saying those things was really hard for Freddie. He didn't need to say anything else. Joe had already understood. Joe had already understood what was going on for weeks, in fact. But he needed Freddie to tell him, so he could be be sure that what was happening to the singer, was what he suspected.

And he was right. Again.

Freddie was going through what he himself, Joe, had been through years ago.

 _That was the moment, Freddie_.

The moment to make a choice. Everyone goes through it. In various stages of anyone’s life. Everyone goes through moments that they are at a crossroad, with two paths to take; two distinct directions, two different stories to be told.

But the path that Freddie would follow now it would be the one that would guide Freddie's life from there on.

But Freddie and Joe didn't know that yet, of course.

They knew it would be an important moment in Freddie's life, but they had no dimension of what that would mean in the coming years. Yeah, the life of Freddie Mercury was about to change.

And that ... That was the moment of the beginning of it. They just did not know yet.

 _“I supposed it’s my turn to make a decision, right?” -_ It was a whisper, right after taking a deep breath. Thanks to Joe, Freddie had finally understood.

 _“You are the only one who can tell this, dear” -_ Joe answered. He could not make the decisions anymore. It was Freddie's turn to do that.

 _“I never thanked you…” -_ Freddie said, looking deep into his friend's eyes, a sincere smile on his red lips. A smile from inside his soul – _“… for making the right decision for us. You were right, Liza. You were right”_ \- Freddie rested his hand on Joe's, which was still caring for the musician’s injured leg. Joe's eyes watered once more, but this time he had a big smile on his face _– “Don’t worry, I will call Doctor Metzger tomorrow, okay?”_ \- Freddie lightly shook joe's hand before finally finishing – _“And Winnie too”_

The decision was already made.

 

.

 

 _“So… it really happened”_ \- It was the first thing Barbara said as soon as Winnie opened his apartment door for her the next day. Winnie had had better days, the austrian woman knew that. In front of her, holding the wooden door of his flat, he was a chaos. Swollen eyes, ruffled hair, alcohol smell. It was late at night, but there she was. He had called her himself. He had begged her to go see him; after weeks without talking to her. He had given in and claimed her presence there. With him.

Winnie was a difficult character. Macho _pose_ , dominant and intimidating. One of those who did not give in, one of those who showed no weaknesses at all. He made fun of who did, this was Winnie's type and he used to take advantage of it. To take control, to have the situation o his hands.

It was easier that way, wasn't it? After all, the great _truth_ was that it was all a façade. A mask.

And it had just fallen down.

All the insecurities and weaknesses he had within him fell down.

He was not in control. He had no control. He had lost.

He was not what he appeared to be. Never was. Mask. Down.

He didn't answer Barbara. He simply left the door open for her to enter and headed to the couch, throwing his body heavly on it.

 _“Apparently you didn't need translation this time” -_ she commented, entering the apartment and closing the door behind her. She threw the bag on an armchair before joining her friend on the couch he was sitting on.

 _“This doesn’t need much translation_ ” - he answered in a low voice – _“In fact, I thought it’d happen sooner” -_ He didn't look at her. He could not. Without his mask he had no strength to face her. After all, she was one of the only people who knew he wore one. She knew who Winnie was after all. She always knew _–_ _“I was expecting this after all. He came here alone and I think he even trained what he would say, he said almost everything in German” -_ he then smiled sadly _– “He really tried his best”_

 _“I’m sure he did”_ \- Barbara also smiled, and analyzed a German for a few seconds – _“How are you?”_

 _“I’m okay. Better than I thought I’d be”_ \- He confessed, eyes in his own hands over his body – _“How I said I was expecting it. There was no fight. No misunderstandings…”_

_“This doesn’t even sound like you saying… Usually you’re so…”_

_“Tough?”_ \- He finally looked at her. No sign of the macho man there -   _“Yeah, this is probably one of my big defects”_ \- he sighed before rubbing his hands, visibly disturbed – _“You can agree with that. No problem. It won't make any difference now. We broke up after all” -_ It was Barbara's turn not to answer. No, he didn't need confirmation about what he already knew. Instead, she put a hand on his face, caressing his cheek just like a mother would do. Winnie smiled again at the show of affection. Without mask, he would never reprimand her; without mask he was just someone who needed affection too. He then laughed weakly, before facing her once more. _– “He said we could be friends”_

_“You should be his friend, dear. He’s a wonderful friend”_

He and Freddie. Friends?

_“I don’t even know how to do that”_

_“Send him a note. He injured his leg, right? So I heard…” -_ she suggested, now stroking his messy hair, straightening it the way she could – _“Just ask how he is. This is what friends do…”_

 _“I…” -_ He started, but soon fell silent. A mixture of pride and shame taking hold of him. Barbara was looking straight at him, not looking away. She noticed his hesitation. She then smiled at him one more time, just a tug of her red-painted lips. He got the message. No mask in there. Not now _– “I will think about it” -_ They were silent. Their eyes shifted to different points of the apartment. Both of them lost in thought as Barabara massaged his tense shoulder to comfort him _\- “This is how it feels, then?”_ \- he said, his voice was just a whisper – _“When we lose something we really like”_

_“I can not tell, honey. The truth is... I just know how it is like to never have it”_

Winnie turned to her once more.

_“I’m sorry”_

_“I’m sorry too”_

 

_._

_“How is your leg, baby? Does it hurt?” -_ Jim asked, sitting next to Freddie on the bed. The singer was with his back against the headboard on a pillow and both legs extended on the mattress.

 _“Not much, but I think I still need to be still” -_ Freddie responded, moving to make his back more comfortable. The leg had really gotten better after a few days, but it wasn't completely healed _– “The doctor said it was not that bad. I broke this leg last year, so it’s not that strong yet”_

 _“That’s good. I’m glad it’s getting better”-_ Jim replied, bending to place a kiss on the singer's forehead – _“You shouln’t have gone to pick me up at the airport though”_

Freddie smiled as a reply, remembering Jim's surprised face when he met him at Munich’s airport that Friday night. It had been a long time since Freddie had picked him up when he arrived to visit him in Germany. Usually the frontman was waiting to greet him at home or at the studio. It had been really unexpected to find him there that day, and his surprise was even greater when he noticed that Freddie was indeed limping all the way to the car - obviously, he had not accepted Jim's requests to help him.

The singer had not commented during their week calls that he had been injured. And, of course Jim didn't understand why.

_“Don’t you want to know what happened?”_

Freddie asked, as if he'd read the Irishman's mind.

_“I supposed if you wanted to tell me you’d have done it so far”_

Freddie blinked at the answer. Not what he expected, in fact. As far as the singer could tell, Jim knew him better than he imagined. He expected Jim would  push him to get to know what had happened. But apparently, the hairdresser knew that if Freddie really wanted to reveal it he would have already done it.

 _“You’re right” -_ he answered a little embarrassed _– “But it was a stupid thing, nothing to worry about anyway” -_ He assured him, making sure Jim understood it was nothing serious at least – _“I just didn't want to worry you”_

 _“If you say so, dear” -_ Jim smiled at him; chocolates eyes squeezed beneath his lashes _– “But I’m here to listen if you feel like to talk about it”_

Freddie grinned too, spreading his arms so that the Irishman could settle there. And without thinking twice, Jim did it, letting his body relax on the bed, his head resting on his lover's chest as he felt himself being wrapped in the other man's warm arms.

They stayed like this for a moment, just cuddling. It was good, just enjoying each other's presence after days apart. The warmth and texture of the skin, the synchronized breaths. Freddie closed his eyes, leaning forward only so he could smell Jim's hair better. It didn't smell like expensive shampoo, but it smelled sweetly, just like something that reminded mint, honey and wood. An unlikely mixture for a shampoo; Freddie was sure that something in that mix of smells could only come from Jim himself. And he loved it. He just loved it.

The hand that hugged his waist were so strong. Protective. But at the same time, gentle and tender as the barber strained over his clothes and so warm when it found the hem of his shirt and reached his skin. He could feel the calluses on his fingers, the hand of someone who worked hard with them, whether in a saloon or in gardens. But they were so nice, caressing him so fondly that he felt he could melt with just that touch. So good.

 _“I’m sorry for not being well enough yet” -_ Freddie whispered after a while, his faint voice right after kissing the other man’s brown hair _– “I supposed we’ll be stuck in here the whole weekend…”_

The hairdresser turned his head to face him.

 _“And how is this a bad thing?” -_ he asked; his eyebrows arched – “ _I’m happy only being here with you, sweetheart”_

This time Freddie bent to place a kiss directly on his lips.  _Oh, Jim._ So good.

 _“I like it too, darling, only being with you” -_ Another kiss, this time longer. Jim brought the hand that was around his waist all the way to the nape of his neck. Calluses. Warm. Good _– “I like your company” -_ Freddie said with his lips still pressed over the other's. Jim gave him another peck, before moving away, just enough to speak, but not enough to stop their noses from touching.

_“Can I do something for you? I mean, to make you more confortable. Just let me know what I can do to help you...”_

The singer stopped for a instant. A mischievous smile came from under his mustache.

_“You could do a streptease for me”_

Freddie licked his lips slowly, feline eyes.

The hairdresser rolled his ones, his cheeks red.

_“How could this help you?”_

_“It won't do any bad, I assure you”_

_“You are unbelievable”_

_“Come on… please”_

Jim didn't have time to answer. Knocks on the door announced that someone would enter the room and soon Freddie authorized, after Jim straightened himself back to sit on the bed. It was Joe who appeared at the door.

 _“Dinner is almost ready”_ \- he announced – _“And those came just now” - _And he showed what he had between his hands. Some envelopes of diferent colors and sizes.

 _“More cards?”_ \- Freddie asked looking excited.

 _“Yep”_ \- he replied, walking over to them to hand over the papers to the singer – _“And roses from Miss Piggy. They’re in the living room”_

 _“Thank you, dear. We’ll be there soon”_ \- Joe left closing the door behind him as Freddie started checking the envelopes – _“I have received several cards throughout the week_ ” – he commented to Jim with a small smile playing on his lips – _“I have no idea how so many people found out I got hurt” -_ Jim said nothing, concentrating as hard as he could on disguising himself of being slightly upset by that. Apparently many people knew that his _lover_ got injured; except him. As much as, _yes_ , it was okay to Jim if Freddie didn't want to tell what had happened, yet he still felt a little upset that he could not comfort him as well as those other people. But Jim knew that Freddie should have his reasons for hiding that fact from him and he respected it. And besides, it wasn't in the least of his way to be asking anything. Freddie had not stopped talking, commenting on the notes excitedly; that made him happy. Jim could see. And so Jim was happy too - _“… And this is from… Winnie”_

Jim swallowed hard. He shifted uncomfortably in bed. He said nothing, once again, but this time it was much harder to pretend everything was fine.

Jim knew about Winnie.

Freddie knew Jim knew about Winnie.

Even _Winnie_ knew that Jim knew about Winnie.

Even so, that was a topic they never actually talked about.

At first Jim had discovered the real intentions of their affair. It was supposed to make Winnie jealous. This _we_ all already know. But as the months went by, his relationship with Freddie had been changing. It had grown stronger, every day more solid…

This was no longer an affair. And both Freddie and he knew it.

They were boyfriends, behaved like boyfriends, considered themselves as boyfriends. Although they had never admitted to each other yet. Of course Freddie always introduced him as my man, however never, never effectively as a boyfriend.

Jim couldn't deny that, now and then, he wondered if Freddie felt that way too. If Freddie really considered him his boyfriend. The Irishman found himself wondering sometimes – _and he always repressed himself later_ – about what Freddie would be doing when they were apart; he in London and the singer in Munich.

He wondered if he was still with Winnie.

Freddie finished reading the German's card, folding it and depositing it with the others beside the bed.

He turned to Jim. And Freddie already knew very well when the Irishman was bothered by something. And the frontman didn't have to think long to figure out what it was. He didn't even need to ask this time. He knew what was upsetting Jim.

Maybe another day Freddie had played with that, as he always had, with that kind of situation. Maybe the other day, Freddie had been trying to take advantage of the fact that the other man was finally showing - or trying not to show - that he was jealous.

That had never happened, and it was so subtle that even Freddie doubted it was true. But he wanted to believe so. And now would be the perfect time to use that, wouldn't it?

Freddie almost laughed as wild ideas came into his head. Control Jim. Tease Jim.

But the truth was that ... for the first time he didn't feel like doing anything. For the first time, he didn't want to do anything.

It could be because of his injured leg… or maybe the fact that he broke up with Winnie, and it wouldn't make any sense to involve the German in it again…

The truth was that after so many weeks in the midst of his confusion, Freddie was finally relieved. As if a weight had come off his shoulders. He felt as if he had done something right. He made a decision. And even though it was hard to break up with Winnie after years together, and even not knowing where that might lead him, even not knowing if that was the right decision to make… He felt good; he felt so good as he hadn't felt in a while. And he didn't want to ruin it with any intrigue; with any game.

In fact, the truth was that, right there, at that moment, with _Jim_ , Freddie simply wanted to just tell him the truth:

 _“It’s good to be cherished by my friends” _\- He started by placing one hand in the barber's thigh, causing him to stare him in the eye _– “But it’s even better to be cherished by my boyfriend”_

It was there.

The answer to what Jim wondered.

The truth.

And so Jim smiled to him, a wide, big smile, that went from ear to ear, that almost make a heart stop beating; at least that's how Freddie felt.

Jim bent again to seal their lips once more.

_“Later”_

_“Later what?” -_ Freddie frowned. Jim placed his mouth on the other man's ear, his warm breath ruffling the hair on the back of Freddie's neck.

_“Streaptease”_

_Oh boy!_

Truth could hurt sometimes, but it could also be very good.

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Metzger \- Freddie's fictitious German doctor.
> 
>  
> 
> .
> 
> 1\. Freddie really broke his leg in 1984.
> 
> 2\. Joe and Winnie's relationships with Freddie, just as the way they broke up, and the reason behind, are my interpretation of the facts, as well as the true personality of Winnie that I brought in this chapter. I really hope you guys enjoyed it. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. English is not my first language, so sorry for any grammar mistake.
> 
> Did you like it? Please leave a comment, I would be very happy! They encourage me to continue!


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